


Butterfly Effect

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Arranged Marriage, Demisexual Jaime Lannister, Epistolary, F/M, Jaime Lannister-centric, Robert's Rebellion, Slow Burn, not cersei friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: On his way to meet with Cersei at the inn, a recently knighted Jaime sees a girl about to be attacked and intervenes, saving her. He never makes it to the inn, though.Where one simple decision changes not only Jaime's life but the shape of all Westeros.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Ned Stark, Jaime Lannister & Selwyn Tarth, Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister & Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 1109
Kudos: 1364





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is almost finished just two chapters left to write and I was going to wait before I started posting but I'm honestly too impatient and since I couldn't write at all in today's flight (hate Ryanair, honestly, no space to type in those tiny seats) at least I could edit the first two chapters.  
> This is very slow burn, like the slowest. And it's very character-centric. I guess you can say this is another of my attempts to give Jaime friends, the gods know he doesn't have enough in canon.  
> I will be adding tags and warnings as we come to them.  
> Note: Brienne has been aged up for this fic, which it's more book canon than show, except on that. For the purposes of this fic, Brienne is around 7/8 in the beginning
> 
> Now with a banner from the amazing Ro_Nordmann thanks so much!

[](https://i.imgur.com/aZsNJhx)

The little girl was crying, that was the second thing Jaime noticed about her.

The first had been her eyes, big and the bluest and most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Even prettier than Cersei's, and there was nobody prettier than Cersei in the world.

For an instant, Jaime considered continuing on his way and ignoring it. Cersei had told him to meet at the inn, and he had not been with Cersei in way too long. He missed his sister, missed her voice and her laugh and her body next to his. He could see her tonight, just the two of them, and could hold her and kiss her like he hadn't done in years. He just needed to turn his back on the crying girl and keep walking towards the inn.

_In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocen_ t, Arthur Dayne's voice resonated in his head; it reminded him that no, he couldn't just keep walking and leave the girl to her own devices, it was not a knightly thing to do.

He was a knight now, he ought to act like one.

He turned and walked towards where he had seen the girl disappearing in the crowd, dragged along by a severe-looking septa with a hand twisted in the girl's straw blonde hair. The worst was the way the girl was crying, they were the silent kind of tears of someone who knows they'll be ignored or reprimanded for them, just rolling down her face while she suppressed any noise, not complaining while the septa pulled at her hair and dragged her. She couldn't be older than eight summers, tall but with the round face of most children, there was something about her homely face and resigned expression that reminded Jaime of Tyrion.

It was finally this what had prompted him to follow them.

"Hurry, they're still chasing us!" the septa said in a shrill and harsh voice while she pulled the girl between side streets. They were leaving the better part of King's Landing's market, moving straight towards somewhere no highborn lady would want to be seen. And the girl was clearly highborn, the cut and quality of her clothes were evident, if not any good taste in them. The septa kept darting glances in the direction he was coming from, still pulling the girl less than gently. Jaime had seen her less than a minute and already disliked her. "You couldn't behave like a lady for once in your life, you had to go touching the swords."

Jaime looked back and saw what had the septa so harried. Rushing right behind him were three men, the kind Jaime wouldn't want anywhere close to a highborn lady without protection. They were wearing roughspun and dirty clothes, swords hanging from their hips and something in their look reminded Jaime of the Kingswood Brotherhood, the same hunger in their eyes and cruel set of their mouths. He let them walk past him and then went after them, his hand on the pommel of his sword; no sense in rushing, his old master-at-arms would have said, and no need to call their attention to himself. If they noticed they were being followed, they would leave this girl and her septa alone and choose another unsuspecting victim who wouldn't be lucky enough to be spotted by a knight.

Jaime turned another corner, the streets getting narrower and darker, the smell of the place and the filth lining the cobblestones getting worse and worse. He arrived at a cul de sac almost too late to intervene, the three men were advancing on the septa and the girl, who were pressed against the wall.

"Give it to us, _little lady_ , and we won't kill you," one of them said, a sword in his hand, advancing on the girl.

The girl's hand flew to her neck, where a golden pendant hung, shaking her head and pressing it against her neck hard enough it was sure to leave a mark. The septa shook the girl violently. "Do it!"

" _No_."

She shook the girl again. "You spoiled beast! They're going to kill us if you--"

"It won't help, they're going to kill you anyway," Jaime said unsheathing his sword, all eyes turned to him. He'd seen it in their eyes; these men wanted the girl's pendant and the sour-faced septa's coin, but they were going to kill them both for sport.

One of the men, as tall as Jaime with dark short hair and a scar on one cheek, looked at him and chuckled, the sound full of scorn. "Look at the pretty boy, we'll take your sword and gold too." He nodded to his companions, who turned and advanced on Jaime, swords unsheathed and the same bloodthirsty disdain on their faces.

They didn't know who he was, Jaime realized, amused. He had followed Cersei's instructions and not worn his house colours; common thugs were likely to recognise the crimson and gold of his house even if they couldn't recognize the golden hair and green eyes. They saw his rich attire and golden sword and thought him a wealthy and easy target. "You can try."

The two closest to him attacked at the same time, they were big and burly, and they were carrying swords but were no swordsmen. It was simple for Jaime to disarm the first of them while pushing back the other, easily sidestepping his wild thrust and kicking him to make him stumble. Jaime pivoted and advanced on the third one, who had kept going after the girl. She must have picked up a stick somewhere and was trying to hold him off with it, showing more courage than good sense. Jaime found himself liking the little girl. She was a child, though, and had no chance against a grown man. Jaime didn't award him any courtesy, like Ser Arthur had done the Smiling Knight, he just ran him through with his sword. Courtesies and fair fights were for Knights, not for street roughs attacking three to one.

He didn't wait to see the septa's reaction, though he heard her screams, Jaime turned to the other two men, who had regained their wits enough to attack him again. They were also screaming, shouting vicious imprecations at Jaime and threatening with worse than death. As if they had the skill to back up their words.

Jaime killed the one who had spoken to him with a swift slash across his chest and cursed when the other one managed to land a lucky hit, the bite of his blade against the back of his hand almost making him lose his grip on his sword. Jaime cursed and turned, making a fist with his other hand and punching the man, who was busy watching for his sword, then lifted his sword and stabbed him through the chest.

The septa had not stopped screaming, though the entire fight had lasted just a couple of minutes. The girl, on the other hand, was staring at Jaime with wide eyes but her tears had stopped. She took a step towards him, the septa grabbed her by the hair again and pulled her back. She made a face while Jaime sent the septa a glare.

" _Are you the Warrior_?" the girl asked, wonder in her voice. "You're hurt!"

He looked at his hand and saw the blood. It was a shallow cut, nothing serious. He sheathed his sword and clenched and stretched his hand to check the damage. Despite the blood, he could move his hand with just a little pain. "It's only a scratch." Jaime smiled down at her and crouched like he usually did with Tyrion, though she was much taller. "I'm not the Warrior, I'm just a knight. Who are you?"

"Brienne--" she began, but the septa yanked hard on her hair, and she winced, eyes filling with tears again.

"Shush, child, let the adults speak." She looked at Jaime up and down, clearly finding him wanting. He was tall for his five and ten years, and most people believed him older. "She's Lady Brienne of Tarth," the septa said, pulling at her to keep her away from Jaime, looking at him warily. "We thank you for your help, _Ser_." The way she spat the word left no doubt she didn't believe he was a knight. "If you escort us back to the Red Keep and her father, the Evenstar, he can pay you for your service." He was about to refuse, see them back to the market so they could go their own way and he'd go to Cersei, who was more than likely already waiting for him. The septa turned to the girl again, eyes blazing with fury. Jaime definitely didn't like her. "And I'll tell your father what you did, risking our lives for a trinket."

"My brother gave it to me," Brienne protested, the sadness in her voice leaving no room as to why that mattered.

The septa pursed her lips but said nothing, she grabbed her hand and started pulling Brienne after her. She didn't ask Jaime his name, just started walking and expected him to follow. Brienne looked back a few times, and Jaime found himself following them, his dislike for that shriveled cunt of a septa growing each time Brienne turned to look at him with a small smile and she pulled on her arm.

Cersei would surely understand why he was late.

The sun had almost set by the time they arrived at the Red Keep and it had started raining, not a word had been exchanged between the septa and Jaime. She had had many things to say to her charge, though, none of it good. She had insulted her face, clothes, and her manners; had even mourned she was the surviving child of the Evenstar and a poor showing of an heir. The words sounded well-rehearsed, Brienne's smile disappeared a bit more with each one. Jaime felt the sudden need to write to Casterly Rock to make sure no septon dared treat his brother this way.

Once in the Keep, the guards let them inside immediately, "He's with us," the septa said imperiously and then demanded to know where the Evenstar was. One of the guards looked and recognized Jaime, his eyes widening. Jaime shook his head before he had a chance to be addressed by name.

The Evenstar was in the covered courtyard with some other lords. It was easy to recognize him, he was a head taller than all of them and twice as broad, wearing the pink and azure of his house sigil, with dark blonde hair thinning on top and a greying beard. He had the same blue eyes as his daughter and a booming laugh that was easy to hear from the other side of the courtyard. Brienne started to pull on her hand to free herself and after the third tug, she managed and ran to her father, barreling against his legs. Jaime trailed meekly after the septa.

"Lord Selwyn," she said when they finally reached his side. He had already picked up his daughter, who was clinging to his doublet trembling and crying, her entire body shaking her face buried on her father's chest. She had waited to be in her father's arms, she had known not to expect comfort from her septa. The Evenstar looked at her with concern and confusion before turning to the septa. "Thank the Seven you're here, we've been attacked by some thugs who wanted to rob us in the market. Your daughter was showing her gold and dragging me to dangerous stalls, and we were followed. _This young man_ ," she turned to Jaime, distaste in her voice, "killed the men. He's followed us here expecting payment for it."

Selwyn Tarth looked between the septa and Jaime, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead when he clearly recognized him. "He saved us, father," Brienne intervened, lifting her head to look at her father, her voice still trembling. "He fights like the Warrior."

"I'm sure he does," Lord Selwyn said, his voice deep and soft. "Ser Jaime Lannister, is that right?" The septa startled at the name, turning shocked eyes on Jaime who gave her a slow smirk. "And what payment might you want, Ser? Not gold, I'm sure?"

"I have plenty of gold, indeed," Jaime said. "You should ask your daughter about her septa, who was berating and insulting her the entire time if you feel like paying me back. She was dragging her around by the hair when they were being chased," the septa had paled at his words while Lord Selwyn's face reddened, a thunderous scowl on his brow. "And hasn't had a word of comfort for her the entire time."

"Is that right?" he asked, Jaime was surprised he wasn't shouting, but his voice was no less deadly for its softness.

"My Lord," the septa began. "Those are lies."

"What use would it be for Ser Jaime to lie to me? We don't know each other and he is not requesting any boon of me. His family is already the richest in the realm, he gains nothing by befriending the Lord of Tarth, an insignificant house compared to his." He looked at his daughter, his expression smoothing. "Tell me the truth, Brienne, has Septa Roelle been cruel to you?"

She looked between the three of them and nodded. "Since Galladon drowned," she said, her voice small. "She said it should have been me, then my father would have the heir he deserved instead of an ugly beast who thinks she's a boy."

Lord Selwyn closed his eyes for an instant, pain and grief on his face, and squeezed his daughter against his chest in a way that had to be painful. Jaime felt like an intruder watching this, thought to make his escape when Lord Selwyn opened his eyes and looked at the septa, there was nothing warm in them now, they looked cold and remote as the Wall. "You will pack your things and go back to wherever you came from. _Tonight_. Write to Evenfall and ask for your things to be sent to you, but you won't set foot on my island ever again. I will request another septa to replace you once we're back in Tarth. If I see you again, I'll have you whipped."

She looked at Jaime with hatred in her eyes but thought better about saying anything, just turned around and left.

This was the perfect time for him to leave, he had done a chivalrous deed and now he could go to his sister, who would be very annoyed with his tardiness but was sure to forgive him if he kissed her enough.

Brienne climbed down from her father's arms and went to him, taking his right hand on her smaller ones. "Father, Ser Jaime hurt his hand saving us," she said, her big eyes looking at him with concern though the blood had stopped some time before.

"It's nothing, Lady Brienne, I have to--"

A big hand clasped his shoulder, cutting him off and making it impossible for him to leave. "Come, Ser Jaime, we'll have the maester have a look at that cut. We don't want anything to happen to the sword hand of one who fights like the Warrior," he smiled down at his daughter. "And I think your father was somewhere around, he'll want to know what an excellent son he has."

Jaime cursed inwardly and followed, knowing there was no way he could leave now.

Cersei was going to be so angry.

…

He found his sister the next morning.

Jaime had asked when he arrived why they weren't allowed to room together in the Tower of the Hand, but his father had been adamant; it didn't matter they were siblings, Cersei was a maiden and flowered, she had to stay at the Maiden vault. It wouldn't be proper, otherwise.

The rain had spent itself the night before and the gardens filling the Red Keep looked vibrant and alive. Cersei was walking around the courtyard with some other ladies and Jaime took some time to look at her. Even among all the colourful flowers, she was the most beautiful, golden, and radiant, almost gliding over the ground clad in a delicate crimson gown which showed her shapely breasts, her golden hair cascading to her waist in delicate waves. She had become more womanly since she flowered, her bosom had filled, and her features had sharpened. She still looked like Jaime, though it would no longer be possible to switch clothes and pretend to be each other like they used to do as children. She was smiling gently at the ladies she was walking with, when she saw Jaime her smile wobbled but didn't completely vanish. He could read her better than the other ladies, saw the strain on the corner of her lips, the frost taking over her eyes for a moment.

_She was furious_. Jaime smiled sheepishly at her, hoping it would stay his upcoming demise at her hands, but it didn't endear him to her if her poisonous glare was any indication.

"My dears, my brother is here, and I haven't seen him in far too long," she said, her tone sweet and wistful, a sharp contrast with the way she had looked at him. "Would you name me terribly rude if I go greet him for a few minutes? I will find you shortly."

One of the ladies looked in Jaime's direction, her eyes travelling up and down his form with admiration etched on her face. She was pretty, in a plain kind of way, but Jaime had already forgotten about her before he turned to Cersei.

She was smiling at him with the same fake sweetness as she did the ladies, her eyes hard. "Dear brother," she said when she got to him, holding him in the briefest of embraces. Jaime pressed his nose against her fragrant hair, holding her against his body. They fit perfectly. "I have missed you terribly and I heard you're already a hero in King's Landing." They were walking away from all the people milling about, the chattering of their voices becoming more distant. Once they were on their own, Cersei whirled on him, the pleasant expression falling from her face leaving only cold anger. " _You left me waiting."_

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to but on the way--

"I know all about your heroics," she hissed, not letting him explain, her fury growing. "The entire court has heard about your daring rescue of the _Maid of Tarth_." Jaime was taken aback by the venom in her voice. He had known she was going to be angry but hadn't expected this level of hostility. "It's all the ladies of the court can talk about this morn, how very brave you are, such a great warrior, and so handsome. I'm sure Lady Tarth was very grateful."

He almost laughed out loud at that, if he did not know better, he would have sworn she was jealous. "Lady Brienne is short of her eighth name day," he said, it was one of the things he had learned about her the previous day while the Maester tended to his hand. "She's too young for that kind of gratitude, sweet sister."

"I don't care," Cersei snapped. "I waited for you at the inn, for hours."

He leaned closer and tried to embrace her, Cersei pulled back with a glare. "I'm sorry, but they were going to kill her. I had to stop them."

" _Had to_? You could have kept going and come to me," Cersei said, her tone silky and dangerous. "What do we care what happens to that girl? She doesn't matter, we are the only thing that matters."

Cersei had always told him that and Jaime had always believed it was true, though it didn't sit well with him, not when he also loved his brother. It was worse now, it went against everything he had sworn kneeling under Arthur Dayne's sword. "I'm a knight now, I made a vow."

It was the wrong thing to say, Cersei's eyes narrowed, and she flattened her lips. "And what about your vows to me? Is being a knight more important than I am now?" She crossed her arms under her breasts, drawing his attention to them. "Is that what you want, to go out to save maidens, not caring about your family or me?"

Jaime swallowed and looked into her eyes again, he was getting irritated with this conversation. He had wanted to see Cersei and knew she was going to be upset he had not made to the inn, but this level of animosity was excessive. "You're being irrational about this, Cersei."

She pulled back as if struck. " _I see._ I was going to give you my maidenhead last night, I had missed you so much, hated to be separated from you, I wanted you to be inside of me." Jaime stared at her wide-eyed, his breeches suddenly feeling a bit too tight. He had imagined it many times, what it would be to finally make love to Cersei, to be joined in that way and really be one for a moment. "But you never came." She drew herself up, standing as tall as she could, though she was still a couple of inches shorter than he was. "You were out being a _hero_ ," she spat the word as if it were an insult.

She turned her back on him. "Cersei--" he grabbed her arm, she turned her face to look at him and shook his grip.

"I have to go back to the ladies before they begin to wonder what's keeping me so long. You go do whatever it is knights do."

She left him there, staring after her retreating form too stunned to do anything else. She really was angry, it was going to take some doing to get her to forgive him. He remembered Brienne's big eyes when she asked him if he was the Warrior and smiled.

Even if Cersei was furious with him, it had been worth it.

He had done the right thing saving her.

\---


	2. Jaime

This was probably the most uncomfortable family dinner Jaime had ever been to, and it was all due to Cersei. She had still not forgiven him two days after their conversation in the gardens, had refused to spend any time with him, every time he looked for her Cersei managed to be with some of her friends or inside the Maiden Vault, where Jaime was unable to access. 

The only reason she was in the same room as he right now was that their father had summoned them both for dinner, and not even Cersei was foolish enough to defy Tywin Lannister. Still, she had other ways of making her displeasure known, and Tywin didn't care enough to feel any kind of awkwardness between his children. 

He had called them there because he had an announcement to make, otherwise, Jaime and Cersei would rarely see him. Tywin was too busy being the power behind the throne while King Aerys lost touch with reality more and more. 

"The King wants you to present yourself to him tomorrow," Tywin said to Jaime when the servants had taken their plates, the last of the food already gone. The food might all have been dried meat like they ate during the campaign for all Jaime had enjoyed it. There had been barely any conversation during the meal, each overture by Jaime frostily rebuffed by Cersei, who was daintily eating each morsel and resolutely not looking at her brother. Tywin had barely raised an eyebrow at her antics and said, ' _whatever this is, resolve it in private,_ ' before he had completely lost interest in them. "He's heard about your rescue of Lady Brienne and your participation in the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood. You will thank him and not speak unless spoken to. Ser Arthur Dayne will also be there, and some of his other White Brothers. You will refrain from any contact with them while in the throne room and only speak to them afterwards if they seek you out." He turned to Cersei and fixed her with a stern look. "You will be there with your brother, make sure to smile and only speak if spoken to."

"Yes, father," they both replied, not turning away from him until he nodded. 

"Jaime," he continued and Jaime's eyes snapped back to him. "Lord Selwyn will also be present at court tomorrow with Lady Brienne, he has requested that you accompany them for supper after the session. I have agreed on your behalf already, I can't attend because of my duties and I can't be seen favouring a small Lord like him, but you must go. Earn his loyalty, he's not our bannerman but it's always useful to have people beholden to us, and Tarth is a useful port for trade with Essos."

Jaime bit back on a sigh. Of course, Tywin would make it all about what he could get out of it and whether it was beneficial for the Lannister family now he'd had time to consider the situation.

Lord Selwyn had practically dragged Jaime to his father after a Maester had tended to his hand, it had been barely a scratch like he had said, but Lady Brienne had insisted and seeing how distraught she had been when they got back to the Red Keep, Jaime had been unable to deny her. She was brave for a little girl, and her mismatched features reminded him of Tyrion. The cruelty of her septa had reminded him of how Tywin and Cersei treated his brother, something he had always hated. 

The same as he usually did for his brother, Jaime would indulge the little lady.

They had found Tywin inside the keep, in the main hall where most courtiers had taken refuge now the rain was pounding outside. Jaime had had a moment to wonder whether Cersei was inside the inn and warm, knowing the moment his father saw him he would never be allowed to leave.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Tywin, Lord Hoster," Selwin had said, approaching the group where he was talking with Hoster Tully who had just arrived in King's Landing. Tywin had looked at him with a neutral expression that Jaime knew well, he was evaluating the Evenstar and assigning a value to him. His eyes fell on Jaime then, his lip curling when he took in Jaime's attire and the bandage around his hand. 

"Lord Selwyn Tarth," Tywin had said with a small nod, his tone as bland as his expression. "Jaime. And this little girl I assume is your daughter, Lady Brienne?" Nobody would ever be able to fault Tywin's manner or his knowledge of the people in court. 

Selwyn had smiled down at her where she was holding onto his hand. "She is, and she is only alive thanks to your son," he said, a gentle smile on his face when he looked at Jaime.

Tywin's eyes had focused on Jaime sharply, his interest piqued now. "Is that correct?"

"It is, he saw my Brienne about to be attacked by some robbers in the market and he intervened, he fought them off and saved my only child and heir. I wanted to be the one to inform you what a brave and chivalrous son you have. You must be very proud of him."

Jaime had flushed with pleasure at those words, delivered in Lord Selwin's calm tone. " _I am_ ," Tywin had said, almost against his own will. Even if they had been reluctantly said, Jaime had felt those words like a gut punch; his father never gave compliments and had never said he was proud of Jaime. Hoster Tully had looked a Jaime appreciatively, the same way he had been doing when Jaime spent some time as his guest in Riverrun, not that Jaime had spoken much to his host, more interested in the war stories of his brother. "What were you doing in the market, Jaime? And in such common attire?"

"I went looking for a present to take to Tyrion when I go back to the Rock," Jaime had lied, the one he had prepared beforehand in case someone saw him and word got out to his father. He was glad now he had. "I didn't want to call attention to my status, merchants always pester Lannister men seeking more coin."

Tywin had looked satisfied with that answer, though Jaime caught the distaste on his face at the mention of his brother, the warm glow of satisfaction had faded at that. 

"Merchants," Tully had said with a chuckle. "They overcharge the main houses because they think we're all as rich as Lannisters."

They had all laughed, and Jaime had tried to make his escape then seeing the perfect chance now his father's attention was caught, but it hadn't been possible. "Jaime, why don't you take Lady Brienne to her rooms, if her father agrees, and come back. We want to hear everything."

Lord Selwyn had transferred Brienne's grip to Jaime's hand without hesitation and she had clung to him, beaming. "I know she's in the safest hands. There are some of my men and servants in our rooms, they can take care of her."

Jaime had nodded and done as ordered, resigning himself to an afternoon of tedium with his father and missing his sister.

And he kept missing her, even when she was sitting next to him, because she refused to speak to him.

Tywin stood from the table and Jaime and Cersei hurried to do the same. "Escort your sister to the Maiden Vault," he said, dismissing them with the same ease he did the servants before. "Tomorrow you will both wear your finest Lannister attire to court. Now, sort out whatever petty squabble there is between the two of you. You're not children anymore, stop behaving as such."

They walked out of the Tower of the Hand in silence, Cersei still stiff with anger. This was ridiculous, they hadn't seen each other in years and Jaime was going to be sent to Casterly Rock in no time, she couldn't be upset with him forever. 

As soon as they were outside and approaching the Sept, Jaime grabbed Cersei's arm and all but dragged her to as little alcove between the Sept and the Maiden Vault; they were almost in the darkness where no curious eyes would pry. Cersei pushed him away from her immediately, and Jaime took a step back lest she decided to slap him. It wouldn't be the first time. 

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed, her eyes burning like wildfire. 

"You have to talk to me," he said, matching her volume. He hated how whiny and pleading his voice sounded, but he hated fighting with Cersei even more. "I'm sorry about the other night but I'm not going to stay in King's Landing for long. Please, you have to forgive me, we don't have much time together."

"Do I?" Cersei asked, but she didn't sound as cold. She had always liked to drive Jaime crazy, and usually relented when he begged. "You hurt me. I waited for you and you never came, do you know how that felt?"

He took a step in her direction, gauging her reaction. "I'm sorry, I truly am."

She didn't tense or push him away, and Jaime took another step closer. It was like approaching a wild animal, not the shy kind that would bolt, Cersei was a lioness, she was the kind that would bite your hand off if you approached her without her permission. "Now everyone talks only about it, and about what a shame it is you're already spoken for."

Jaime stiffened at that. "What are you talking about?"

"That was what I was going to tell you the other night, the reason Hoster Tully is in King's Landing. You're going to be betrothed to Lysa Tully."

He remembered seeing his father and Hoster engaged in very intense conversations, remembered the evaluating glances Tully had given him. He had been sent to Riverrun, where he had spent a fortnight the year before, and he had been sitting next to Lysa, not that he remembered much about her. The Blackfish had been there, a real war hero, and Jaime had been fascinated with him. And besides, Lysa was always trailing after her sister and that Petyr boy who was a ward of her father's, completely ignoring Jaime's presence.

He didn't want to marry Lysa Tully any more than Lysa had wanted to marry him. He didn't want to marry anyone but Cersei. 

"I have a plan, though," Cersei said, and now it was her who closed the distance between their bodies. "You must join the Kingsguard. I have the king's ear occasionally, I can convince him to raise you to the Kingsguard now there is an empty seat." She passed her arms around his neck and brought him closer to her. Jaime could smell her hair and feel the heat of her body, wanted nothing more than to kiss her but this was dangerous. They were in the middle of the Red Keep if anyone saw them their father would have them whipped, or worse. "He listens to me."

He took a step back, her words finally registering once he could think again. "What? But I am father's heir. What about Casterly Rock?"

"You'll have to renounce your title, of course, but it's the highest achievement for a knight, isn't it?" There was a note of spite in her voice that Jaime disliked. It brought him back to their argument two days past. "White Brothers can't marry or hold titles, so the betrothal will be null. Isn't that what you want above everything, _knightly honours_? You can have both that way, your honour and me."

He thought for a moment about serving with Ser Arthur Dayne and the rest of the White Brothers. While it was true that it was the highest honour any knight could get, the price was too steep. Besides, he would be stuck in the Red Keep guarding a king who was becoming more and more unstable, according to the rumours, but he was certain Cersei would not stay in court, or unmarried, for long. She was flowered, their father must already be looking for a match for her after the disappointment it had been Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell.

"What about you? What are you going to do to avoid marriage?" he asked, and Cersei's look said everything. She wasn't. 

"What options do you think women have?" 

Wife, whore or septa. He knew, he had heard plenty about it and agreed it was unfair. "Let's run away together, then. We can go to Essos where nobody will recognize us, I can become a sellsword and earn enough to keep us both comfortable."

Cersei finally pushed him again. "Don't be ridiculous! _I am a Lannister,_ I won't live--" she was gearing up for an argument when there was some noise close, some people heading back inside the Keep from the Sept. They pulled apart as if burned, going back to the illuminated part of the courtyard and continued their way to the Maiden Vault, where a guard watched Jaime warily until he saw Cersei and noticed their resemblance. 

Cersei immediately smoothed her expression, smiling at Jaime. "I will see you tomorrow in the court, sweet brother," she gave him a brief embrace and hissed in his ear. "Think about it, join the Kingsguard or marry Lysa Tully and never touch me again."

She went inside, leaving Jaime stunned at the door. 

...

Jaime had a bad feeling about the court session since the moment he arrived. 

He had selected his garments carefully, mindful of the importance of presenting himself to the King. His father was the Hand, and Jaime was aware that his image was a reflection of Tywin and wasn't going to push. Not on this. He put on his richest attire, a dark red jerkin with gold trim and black breeches, and the Lannister crimson cloak over his shoulders. Cersei was already in the throne room when Jaime arrived, surrounded by other ladies and looking stunning in her crimson and gold gown. 

She saw Jaime and broke apart from the group with a smile, approaching him. "Brother," she said in a sweet tone that was as fake as her smile. She leaned closer. "Have you got your answer?"

He had thought of nothing else, not since the previous night, and was no closer to having an answer. No, that was incorrect. He had an answer, he just knew it wasn't the one Cersei wanted to hear and he had always hated upsetting her. He didn't want to renounce to his title unless it was to be with her, always. He wouldn't mind leaving the Lannister name behind then. But Cersei wasn't going to give up her own status as a Lannister, not even to be with him. 

That was what her words meant. She had said, _I am a Lannister_ , hadn't said _we are_. 

He didn't have a chance to answer, though, Lord Selwyn arrived with Brienne already pulling at his hand to get to Jaime. She was a lot less shy than she was when she saw her last, the absence of her horrid septa obviously helping her open up. 

Cersei looked at them, a look of derision crossing her features when she saw the girl. Jaime shot her a warning look, "Lord Selwyn, Lady Brienne, may I introduce you to my sister Cersei."

"Lady Cersei," Brienne said with a clumsy curtsey that Jaime found nonetheless charming.

Cersei returned the curtsey with the same fake smile and extended her hand to Lord Selwyn, who placed a kiss on it as he bowed. "It's a pleasure, Lady Cersei, and let me say that the rumours of your beauty were not exaggerated."

The fell into the kind of pleasantries the court had heard a million times, and with the same sincerity, until the door opened and the six Kingsguard entered the room, preceding King Aerys and his Hand. 

Jaime was surprised to see all the White Brothers, but not as much as he was by the appearance of the king. Aerys looked much older than his years, his brittle white hair which looked greasy and unwashed fell in tangles to his waist, his beard was dirty and matted, his clothing stained. He was small and frail-looking, though his hands had sharp and long claws where a normal person would have trimmed nails. The worst, though, were his eyes. Jaime looked into his eyes and saw nothing but madness. Suddenly his father's strict instructions made sense. 

He searched for his father's eyes and found them boring into him, a warning in them. 

The king moved to sit on the throne, a few drops of blood blooming in his hand as soon as he touched the armrest. "Jaime Lannister," Aerys said, his voice much deeper and stronger than his appearance suggested. 

Instinctively, Jaime grabbed Brienne's hand, who had taken a step back, and squeezed it briefly. He then approached the throne, bowing deeply to the king. "Your Grace, thank you for having me today."

Aerys looked him up and down. "You really are as pretty as your sister but without teats," he said, there were some scattered titters around. The fear in the court was palpable, people didn't know whether to laugh at Tywin's heir expense or not, the chances of calling attention to themselves too high. Jaime now understood why his father had been so reluctant to have him here. "I heard you're good with a blade and that you were knighted. Your father must be proud, a perfect golden lion." 

"Yes, your Grace," he said when it was clear the king was expecting a response. The feeling that something was wrong was intensifying. 

He had heard rumours that the king was mad, that he mistrusted his hand and he was erratic. He had not believed it was something he had to worry about, not with Tywin as hand. He was Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock and a knight, what did he have to fear?

"You've already been saving maidens I've heard, is that right Lord Selwyn?"

Selwyn approached Jaime and put a hand on his shoulder, the contact grounding. He must have seen the tension coiling in his body. On the side, Cersei was looking at the proceedings with anticipation, nothing of the dread he was feeling evident on her features. He misliked her half-smile, it had always been the precursor of some mischief. "It is, your Grace, he saved my child."

The king smiled and it was the worst thing Jaime had seen, twisted and cruel. "He deserves a reward then, I thought to raise him to the Kingsguard," he looked briefly at Cersei, who pretended not to have seen it, then looked at Brienne with malicious glee on his face. Brienne was practically hiding behind her father's legs, startled by the king's appearance and his sudden focus on her. "I think he deserves the usual reward for saving a _beautiful maid_ ," there were laughs around the court at that and Brienne shrank behind her father's legs even more. "Her hand in marriage. I heard you killed three men for her, it must be true love." There were more laughs, Jaime couldn't move or think, his mind filled with static; he had just been betrothed, by the king no less, in a move made to spite his father. Hoster Tully was in the court, looking at the King also with barely concealed anger. "Or is he not free to marry? He's not betrothed to another, is he?"

There was a cold fury radiating from Tywin, but same as he wouldn't have been able to refuse if Jaime had been appointed to the Kingsguard, he was powerless to do anything but accept such a disadvantageous match. Tarth was nothing compared to the prize of the Riverlands, which had been at his fingertips. "He is free to marry," he ground out. The betrothal had not been sealed with Tully.

Selwyn's hand clenched almost painfully on Jaime's shoulder, the only indication that he wasn't ecstatic about the idea. "Your Grace, Brienne is barely a child, surely she's too young to marry." 

The king waved a hand dismissively. "They can wait to marry until she's flowered, as long as the betrothal is official."

He breathed in and released it slowly, his hand on Jaime's shoulder the only thing keeping him from flying apart at the seams. Selwyn bowed, and Jaime did the same. "Thank you, your Grace. It will be done."

"Yes, it will be done," Tywin echoed. 

The king lost interest in them immediately and the chatter returned to the court, exciting news about the betrothal and the latest slight of the king against Tywin Lannister already going around. Come night, they would know even in Winterfell. Tywin disappeared through the back door, and Cersei moved away to one of the groups of ladies leaving Jaime with Selwyn, who was explaining to Brienne what had just happened. 

Jaime finally could turn his gaze from his sister. Cersei had also looked stunned by what had happened, but it was more than that, she had looked frustrated. Jaime remembered the look the king had sent her, the way she had said the night before she had the ear of the king, and knew she had planned to get him in the Kingsguard with or without his consent. She had already been working on it, must have planned to get him to agree--of course, the inn. She was going to give him her maidenhead, and she had been so angry when he didn't meet her there. Jaime would love to say he would not have fallen into her trap, but he knew it was a lie. He would have done and accepted whatever Cersei wanted of him if he had been allowed inside of her. 

She knew this. 

She had arranged his life to her own convenience; for the first time, Jaime hated her. 


	3. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm blown away by the response for this fic! Thanks so much to everyone commenting and leaving kudos. I'm halfway through the last chapter now, and so happy I'm finishing nano on time! I'm aiming to update at least twice a week, though depending on the number of updates and the time I have it might be faster.

Jaime remembered little of the rest of that morning; he had wanted to leave the court and possibly King's Landing, but for as long as the king was presiding over it, no courtiers were supposed to leave the room. 

He kept close to Lord Selwyn, who was holding Brienne's hand and looking calm and unruffled, as if nothing worthy of notice had happened in the past hour. Jaime, on the other hand, was seething. He couldn't stop looking for Cersei, who was at no point separated from her friends, could feel eyes on him and hear some titters and laughs. Each of them made Brienne cringe and Jaime wish for his sword, which had been left in his rooms because the king wouldn't allow any blade not belonging to a Kingsguard in the room. 

"You have to calm down, Ser Jaime," Selwyn said after they had been standing in silence for a while. "Don't let anyone see how this has affected you." Jaime turned to stare at him, incredulous. How could he be so calm after what had happened? Only he wasn't, Jaime wasn't an expert in reading him but the look in his eyes mirrored the one he had when he had dismissed the septa. He was no less furious than Jaime, he was better at hiding it. "We'll discuss it tonight during supper, I dare say your father will finally make time to attend. For now, let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" Jaime asked, his voice still too sharp. He forced himself to unclench his fists, ignore the tingling of his fingertips and keep his hands by his side, not closing them again even when he heard some amused chortles he knew, just knew, were about them. He wasn't feeling any less angry but had noticed the tiny flinches Brienne couldn't contain. He had been used to spite his father, and that angered him, but Brienne had been used as both punishment and mockery. Again, he thought about Tyrion and how people laughed at him. "Have I told you about my younger brother?" he finally said, making his voice softer and gentler. "He's about the same age as Brienne, and he's very smart, always with his nose buried in a book. His favourites are the stories from the Age of Heroes--"

Selwyn looked at him approvingly and they kept talking animatedly about nothing as if they were friends and the king had done them a favour. He felt Cersei's eyes on him on occasion, and he also felt the king's attention focus on them, it made his skin crawl. Some courtiers approached them to offer their congratulations, their voices honeyed and fake, and they accepted them as gracefully as they could. To Jaime, who wanted nothing more than to run them all through with his sword, it was an exercise in restraint. 

Eventually, the king left the room and it began emptying. 

"I will see you tonight, Lord Selwyn, Brienne," Jaime said seeing his sister leaving.

He rushed after Cersei when he saw she was heading to the Maiden Vault and called her name, she stopped short of entering, letting her friends continue without her. She knew he wouldn't be able to say anything damning, not with the guards so close, but he was angry enough to try; before he could say anything uncaring of the audience, Cersei beat him to it.

"Sweet brother, I have been remiss in my congratulations, I didn't want to interrupt you. You must be very happy you saved Lady Brienne's life now," she smiled, sharp and poisonous. She approached him and pressed her lips to his cheek. " _You should have let the ugly cow die._ "

She stepped away and into the Maiden Vault, Jaime frozen in place by her callousness.

…

Jaime should have gone back to the Tower of the Hand, but he was just too strung out for it. He needed to spend some of the excess energy before, to spend his anger lest he lost the grip on his composure during supper, something his father was unlikely to forgive.

The training yard was slowly emptying, most of the training had happened during court, though there were still some masters around supervising the remaining squires. Jaime went to the armoury and took a tourney sword, testing the balance in his hand. It wasn't perfect, nothing like the craftsmanship of Westerlands' blacksmiths, but it would do for what he wanted. 

He went to a corner of the yard, where the practice dummies were, and took his position. He started with controlled strikes, testing his balance and strength, getting used to the weight of the sword in his hand, all the while his mind kept going back to the scene during the court session. He thought about Aerys's face as he looked at Brienne and called her _beautiful_ , the scorn and malice in his voice which had provoked the laughs of many. Jaime hit the dummy as hard as he could, feeling the reverberation of each blow in his hand. What kind of person took pleasure in insulting, publicly, an innocent child? 

The same kind of people who called Tyrion monster and imp, he was certain. Both names he had heard Cersei employ more than once, and while Jaime hadn't laughed like the courtiers had done today, he hadn't stopped her either. 

That brought him back to Cersei again, because she had never been very far from his thoughts but since the moment he had arrived in King's Landing he had thought of nothing else but her, and not in the way he knew she'd prefer. The fury with which she had reacted to Jaime standing her up was disproportionate, especially knowing why he'd done it, but Jaime had not wondered at it because he was used to her tantrums when he didn't give her what she wanted. 

Jaime took a step away from the dummy and switched the strike to an overhand, hitting its head. She had given him an ultimatum, Kingsguard or her, but the choice had not been a real one. Not when she had already spoken to the king. 

When had they become so accustomed to Jaime following her every whim she had not considered he could refuse her? 

He turned and went for a series of lunges. There were voices around him, and a cursory look told him he was attracting an audience but he didn't care, couldn't care, not while his mind was still in turmoil. 

Cersei's parting words were playing on repeat in his mind. You should have let the ugly cow die. Said with the same venom as the king had called her _beautiful maid._ _You should have let the ugly cow die._

He didn't know when the sweet sister he remembered in Casterly Rock had changed so, he wanted to believe it had been the court. That being separated from him, alone in this pit of vipers, had turned her into something she wasn't. He couldn't, though, he remembered the visit of the Dornish princes shortly after Tyrion was born and how willing she had been to hurt their baby brother. He could also remember a thousand other cruelties she had inflicted on Tyrion.

He had let her do it, Jaime remembered shamefaced, and no amount of midnight visits to hold Tyrion and comfort him when they were alone would make that go away.

"You're going to ruin that dummy if you keep hitting it that hard, Ser Jaime."

Jaime stilled at the voice right behind him and looked at the dummy. He must have been hitting it harder than he thought while immersed in his thoughts, it looked to be barely standing. "I'll buy another one," he replied haughtily, irritated at the interruption, and turned around. Ser Arthur Dayne was standing in the middle of the yard, resplendent in his white armour and cloak, though he was carrying a normal sword instead of Dawn, his expression where it fell on Jaime was fond. 

He remembered the days of the campaign against the Brotherhood and kneeling in front of him. It had been his proudest moment. "Ser Arthur."

"What do you say you try to hit a target that hits back, Ser?" Arthur asked, already unsheathing his sword. 

Jaime squared against him and they started, the chatter around them faded, his absolute focus on Arthur Dayne and his sword. If Jaime's attention wavered even for a second, he was lost. 

They touched swords first, a greeting of old friends, then started circling around each other. Jaime was the one to charge first, much as his master at arms had tried to cure him of that habit he still was too impatient, and the chance to cross swords against the best swordsman in the realm didn't present itself every day. 

Jaime felt a surge of excitement in his veins, this was what he was made for, the song of steel, the excitement of a good fight. They danced, their swords glinting in the fading sunlight, Jaime lunged and Arthur blocked him, feinted and retaliated with a cross hit Jaime barely blocked, pushed back with the force of it. He smiled savagely and Arthur returned it, neither of them had a shield and Arthur was using naked steel, but that wasn't a concern, it only made it more exciting. 

Jaime missed his real sword.

"Come on, Ser Jaime, show me the reason I knighted you," Arthur taunted him good-naturedly. "Fighting like this you could be a squire."

"I don't have my sword, Ser Arthur, or I'd have beaten you already," Jaime replied, bragging the way he'd seen the other knights do when they fought among themselves. 

Arthur laughed and attacked but Jaime was ready, blocking the sword and turning it aside, bringing his one up immediately, Arthur blocked him at the last second and pushed forward, entering Jaime's space and forcing him back, removing his advantage. The fight went on for a few minutes, longer than Jaime would have imagined himself holding against Arthur Dayne, even if he wasn't wielding Dawn. Then he saw an opening and took it, realizing just a second too late he had fallen for a trap. 

Jaime's sword clattered to the ground, the tip of Arthur's at his throat. 

"I yield," Jaime said, an exhalation of breath. 

Noise filtered back in, the excited voices of everyone around them and shocked exclamations of awe. 

"Do you want to go again?" Arthur asked. Jaime shook his head reluctantly, the shadows around the courtyard were too long already and he had kept his father waiting for longer than he should. Arthur sheathed his sword. "You've improved, Ser Jaime. You might beat me one day."

"I'll keep practising then."

"I'll walk with you to the Tower of the Hand," he said, his voice brooking no argument. They were silent for a moment as they left the yard, the voices that would retell the fight between Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Jaime Lannister already embellishing the details of the tale. "I wanted to congratulate you for what you did, not just when you saved Lady Brienne but today in court."

Jaime's eyes snapped up to him, already missing the calm he had achieved during the fight. "What do you mean?"

"I saw how you talked to her after, how her father and you kept her away from _well-wishers_ ," Arthur said, his words measured, his tone sharpening on the last word. They were approaching the Tower of the Hand, and he slowed his steps. Jaime did the same, not eager to go inside."Most men, when forced into an unwanted marriage, take it out on their brides."

"I am not most men," Jaime protested. "I won't hurt Lady Brienne."

"No, you're not. You're a knight," Arthur smiled at him, proud.

"So are you and all your brothers, and you stood there while the king made fun of a child just to get back at my father." Jaime should have let it at that, take the compliment as it was intended but found he couldn't. It was the same thing he had done with Tyrion, and the shame of it still scalded him.

All fondness and pride fell from Arthur's expression, replaced by a practiced blankness. "We are sworn to protect the king, not judge him."

 _You were also sworn to protect the innocent_ , he thought, _it wasn't so long ago you made me repeat those vows to have forgotten them_. This time he reigned in his tongue before the words made it out.

They stared at each other in silence for a heartbeat, then Arthur stepped back. "A word of advice, Ser Jaime." Arthur's voice was now bland and detached, all emotion drained from it. "You're young, so I'll excuse it this once. The Red Keep is full of birds willing to sing and ears willing to listen. Be careful how you talk about the king, and to whom. Goodnight."

He turned and left, his warning ringing in Jaime's ears. He couldn't wait to be back in Casterly Rock.

He went inside the tower, Tywin was waiting for him in his solar, lips pursed as he paced. He stopped when he saw Jaime and turned to look at him fully. 

"The court ended hours ago."

"I went to the yard to train," Jaime said. Tywin looked him up and down, his lip curling at his sweaty and disheveled appearance. 

"Lord Selwyn and Lady Brienne will be here shortly," he said her name in the same flat tone he used when forced to mention Tyrion. "Freshen up and get ready to entertain the girl during supper, I have much to discuss with her father."

He knew there was no use protesting and he wanted to get changed, his finery wasn't the most appropriate attire for the activities of the afternoon, too heavy and warm, and his jerkin was stuck to his back, not the most pleasant of feelings, and also covered in dirt. He could also swear he had ripped it at some point, their movements too energetic for the delicate seams. It had been worth it, though, to test himself against Arthur Dayne, even with the tension between them when they had departed. 

He washed in the basin, thinking longingly about a bath to relax his muscles after the exercise, and put on a clean undershirt and doublet, then went out again and joined his father. He had stopped pacing, now he sat on his writing desk with some maps and papers strewn over it. A quick look revealed a map of Tarth, of course, Tywin Lannister had wasted no time to find out the value of the people who were joining his family. 

"This might yet work in our favour," he said the moment Jaime was in the room with him, not looking up from the notes he was taking. "Tarth is not the richest of houses, but the ports are situated at a very advantageous place and there are some marble mines in the isle which can be better exploited with the right investment. Unless Lord Selwyn marries and produces a male heir, something he doesn't seem to be inclined to do, Lady Brienne is his sole heir. She's set to become the Evenstar," he fixed Jaime with a look. "You will become the Evenstar, as her husband the title will be yours to claim when the current one passes. She might not be pleasant to look at, and I doubt she will grow prettier, but as long as she can bear children you will perform your duties. After your third child, you might stop if you want. If you seek other companions you will be discreet. I don't think you need to worry about her pursuing other men, though." Jaime felt ill listening to his father listing their gains and obligations as if he was talking about breeding horses in the market. "You will be, at all times, courteous. I will not tolerate any scandal in this marriage, bad enough it's already a joke thanks to you."

"What should I have done, let her be killed?" Jaime snapped, done with his father's and sister's attitude. 

It had been a good deed, one Jaime could shout to the seven winds instead of having to hide. It had been something he had done not for himself or for the Lannister name, something the knights in the songs did all the time. Tywin and Cersei were acting as if he had brought dishonour on the family because he'd done something without their interest first.

"Yes, people die every day. You didn't know her, why would that matter?" Tywin said, finally looking at him. "Now, your heroism has cost us an alliance with the Tullys, though it might be salvageable if Hoster accepts Cersei for Edmure's bride. Thankfully he was in court today and saw it all, he won't be insulted. I will have to pay her weight in gold as a dowry, seeing as she is older than he is and it was your fault the alliance couldn't be sealed, but she will become the Lady of Riverrun one day."

He remembered Edmure Tully, younger than he was by three years and with the same deep auburn hair than his sisters, the same blue eyes. He hadn't been too skilled with the sword, he remembered, or with the bow, but he had been a genial and smiling boy, though prone to sulking when things didn't go his way. Cersei was going to eat the boy. 

Jaime felt unbearably jealous of the boy and had to tamper it down. Cersei was no longer his, she said it herself, it was the Kingsguard or her. Jaime had already made his decision that morning, the king's orders had only meant he hadn't had a chance to tell her. 

He was still hurt and jealous, fifteen years of love didn't disappear in a moment of anger, he still wanted to go to her and kiss her and hold her. He still felt like he might give up everything just to be with her. Only now he knew Cersei didn't love him the same way, wouldn't do the same for him. Jaime was certain that if he told her now to run away, she would still refuse.

One of the servants entered with Lord Selwyn trailing after them, alone. 

"Lord Selwyn, is Lady Brienne not with you?" Tywin asked, standing from his desk. "I had thought Jaime and her could get acquainted while we discuss the terms of the engagement and the dowry."

Selwyn looked around with a faint frown on his brow. "I thought they would be here already," he said, Jaime stiffened at his words, dread coiling in his gut. "Your daughter came to our rooms before, she had some dresses she wanted Brienne to try, I think she wanted to cheer her up after court. They should arrive at any moment now."

He forced himself to breathe deeply and went to the door. "I'll go get them so you can start talking."

He couldn't believe Cersei would hurt her, but her voice saying _You should have let the ugly cow die_ echoed in Jaime's mind.

He ran.


	4. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is now officially finished! Yay, go Sue!  
> I didn't want to leave it on that cliffhanger the entire weekend, and I'm off travelling.  
> There's still much editing needed on the coming chapters, I'll start next week and probably update two or three times per week.

They were already walking out of the Maiden Vault when he got there. 

Jaime didn't know what he had intended to do once he got there; he was aware that he couldn't get inside and the guards were not servants nor were they going to deliver any messages for him. He had run out impulsively, gripped by the feeling that something bad was happening, but there they were, Cersei leading Brienne by the hand and smiling down at her. 

He ground to a halt and exhaled in relief, they were alright. The moment was short-lived, though. 

Jaime knew his sister's expressions better than anyone else, he knew the soft and gentle curve or her mouth and the glint in her eyes. He had seen that kind of satisfaction on her face before, usually after some kind of mischief they played together, or when they got away from their lessons and managed to hide from her Septa. He had also seen it the few times they had touched each other, tentatively exploring while they kissed, her breathy moans in his hear.

Whatever mischief she had intended it had worked how she wanted.

He looked at Brienne next; she was wearing a red gown adorned with the Lion of Lannister and her hair done up her head. The colour didn't suit her like it did Cersei, she was too pale, washed out with her freckles standing out even more. Her hair wasn't artistically arranged like Cersei's, it appeared as if they had attempted several styles and achieved none, pinning the hair up anyway. The contrast between the two of them was obvious, all the more for being dressed in the same garments and tried to make to look like one another.

They couldn't look more different. Cersei's eyes glittered with triumph, Brienne's stood out on her pale face, eyes sad and wet. If there had been tear tracks on her face they had already been wiped. 

"Jaime," Cersei called him cheerfully, her smile turning sharper. "We wanted it to be a surprise! Look how the future Lady Lannister looks in our colours, _doesn't she look pretty like this?_ I can't wait for father to see her. She insisted I did her hair like mine, isn't it adorable?" Her honeyed words dripped with venom, all the more for their obvious fakeness.

Brienne looked at him, it was obvious she knew she was being mocked but didn't say anything. Jaime remembered the mistreatment she had endured from her Septa, she probably didn't think she would be believed. "Dear sister, I always thought you had impeccable taste," he said, matching her tone, smiling at her. "Your time in court has obviously changed it if you can't see her colour should always be blue, to match the most striking eyes in the Kingdoms." Brienne visibly startled at the compliment, her eyes growing big on her face. "My lady, you can change into your own colours if you want, we'll wait for you."

"No, I'll show father, " Brienne said, lifting her chin, using her father's advice to Jaime, don't let them see how this affects you. Advice he had probably repeated to his own daughter more than once. 

They walked in silence, three figures in red not looking or talking to each other until they reached the Tower. Jaime called one of the servants then. "Please accompany Lady Brienne upstairs and inform my father Cersei and I will be there shortly, I want to have a word with my sister."

As soon as they disappeared up the stairs, Cersei dropped the facade. Jaime rounded up on her. "Was that necessary?"

"She might be your wife, but she'll never be Lady Lannister, she needs to know from now what she is and what she's not." She took his hand and pulled him into an alcove at the foot of the stairs, a darkened enough niche they would be out of sight for a moment. "I'm sorry we argued before, I was jealous," she admitted, pressing herself against Jaime's body. He leaned towards her like a parched flower, like he always did. She smiled and twined her arms around his neck. "But nothing needs to change even if you marry her, we can still be together."

"Jealous of Brienne?" 

"She gets to have the thing I want the most. And now father will also try to sell me out like cattle." She pressed her lips softly against him and Jaime leaned away from her. 

"We can still run away together," he said just to see what she would do. He already knew her answer. "Go to Lys where they have an army of sellswords. We'll get enough gold to last us until I start earning more and we can cut our hair. I think they dye it there--"

Cersei pulled all the way back with a frustrated huff. "Don't be stupid."

Jaime's bark of laughter startled them both. "She did take what you wanted the most, Casterly Rock."

"It should have been mine." Cersei let all the masks fall. " _I am father's firstborn_."

" _Daughter_ , _not son_. Did you think forcing me into a white cloak would make you father's heir?" 

Jaime had never used that against her, though Cersei had not done the same for him. He was always the one supposed to dote on her because the world had been unfair giving her a cunt when she wanted a cock and the power that came with it. Jaime had a cock, and Cersei had Jaime. It was just the way things were between them, and he had never thought to question it. He had never wanted to become Lord Lannister, had never seen further than becoming a knight and winning tourneys, and loving her. Cersei had accused him of having no ambition, but he had seen how cruel ambitious people could be and wanted no part of it. 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Cersei turned her back on him and left. 

He waited for a few breaths and followed her, a sense of finality in her silence there hadn't been in their previous arguments

…

Supper was a tense affair which Jaime wouldn't want to inflict on his worst enemy, and he liked Selwyn and Brienne. 

He didn't know what they had discussed but it was evident things hadn't gone his father's way, something he had not believed possible until now. Tywin spent the meal stiff-backed and with his jaw tight enough chewing had to be painful, Selwyn, on the other hand, appeared calm though his eyes when he looked at Cersei sitting next to Brienne told a different story. Cersei was stewing in her fury, beautiful and remote like a statue, and not inclined to partake in any conversation. That left Jaime and Brienne, he wanted to speak to her and ask what Cersei told her and what she did to her, but this was not the moment so he asked her about Tarth. Asked her about her favourite places to play and hide and ride, and the people on her island. She didn't talk much, her childish voice breaking when she saw all eyes on her but she did talk, gaining confidence as she went.

"I will be taking Brienne back to Tarth in the morrow," Selwyn said after all the plates had been removed and there were no more reasons to stay. "I have concluded the business that brought me to King's Landing, and I have found the air here can be very poisonous. Too many snakes disguised as something else." He looked at Cersei then, leaving no doubt he was speaking about her. She opened her mouth but a look from Tywin stilled her tongue. "Jaime, you are welcome to come to Tarth, get to know the island _your wife_ will inherit one day. In the meantime, please write to us."

"I will."

Selwyn nodded to Tywin and Cersei and left with Brienne. 

The moment the door was closed Tywin turned to Cersei, "What did you think you were playing at?" he asked, his voice soft and sharp, his jaw tight.

"I just wanted to help, she asked me to make her look like me, it's not my fault she's so unfortunate looking," Cersei protested, affecting an air of innocence. She didn't need to bother, both her father and brother knew her enough to know the truth.

Tywin regarded her steadily and Cersei tried to hold his gaze, her chin up, though she ended averting her eyes. "You paraded the girl through the Red Keep wearing our house colours like a fool's motley for your own pettiness, her father wasn't happy with your mistreatment of her and I had to make some concessions in the agreement." He looked at both of them in turn. "Lady Brienne is not the bride I had chosen for your brother but it's the one he'll marry. She's of noble birth and an heiress to her house, and _you will treat her like a Lady._ " Cersei pursed her lips. "Tomorrow, Jaime will return to Casterly Rock, alone. You will stay with me in court while I discuss your betrothal to Edmure Tully with Lord Hoster. Once we have an agreement, you'll go to Riverrun to spend some time there getting acquaintanced."

Cersei blanched. "Edmure Tully? Father--"

Tywin stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Enough! You will do as you're told, both of you." He left a ringing silence once he closed the door, the click of the lock falling into place as loud as if he had slammed it. 

Cersei sat there for a moment longer, stunned into immobility, then stood to leave and Jaime followed her out of habit, though he wasn't under such orders now. " _You knew_ ," she said when they reached the bottom of the stairs, turning to him with the same rage Tywin had almost let them see. Cersei wasn't as practised at hiding her every emotion as their father, though. "You knew about Edmure Tully."

"You should have accepted running away with me."

He heard the slap before he felt the sting of pain on his cheek, Cersei breathing heavily in front of him, her eyes blazing. Jaime opened his mouth and closed it again, completely at a loss for words. He pressed his hand to his cheek, feeling the heat it radiated but still too stunned to fully process what had happened. 

He was standing at the foot of the stairs, his hand on his face, long after Cersei had left. 

…

The white walls of Casterly Rock were a welcome sight after a fortnight on the road with nothing but some of his father's men and his thoughts for company. They had made good time, though not as good as he would have made on his own, but the men had been a good company to keep his mind from going back to the events of the past few days in King's Landing. 

It was strange that in just a sennight his life was changed so much. It wasn't only the fact of his betrothal, though he still hadn't had the time to fully assimilate that, but the end of his relationship with his sister. 

And it had ended, that final slap had been a door closing on it.

He had never believed they would have a rift between them big enough to separate them; they had come to the world together and they were destined to leave it in the same way, or that was what Cersei had always told him. Jaime had believed her, why wouldn't he? They were mirror images, so similar that not even their father had been able to tell them apart when they swapped clothes growing up.

He now knew that had changed when Tyrion was born, that was the first time he had not done or wanted the same things as his sister. It was then they stopped being the same person. The sight of his baby brother had filled Jaime with love and Cersei with hatred. 

That was when the rift started, it had just taken Jaime this long to realize. 

Jaime was eagerly awaiting his reunion with Tyrion, he had much to tell him and for once he intended to talk more than his brother, and Tyrion had been known to try to talk underwater. He was already there, waiting by the gates when they opened and Jaime and the men entered, his blond head easily spotted. The entire household was waiting to greet them when Jaime dismounted, uncle Kevan with Dorna in place of honour as Castellan in Tywin's absence. Tyrion arrived at a quick waddle, his short legs moving as fast as they could. 

Jaime smiled at him, the first real smile on his face in the past days. Tyrion had grown, though he was still no taller than a boy of three summers it was evident in his features and his intelligent eyes. He grinned widely when he saw Jaime dismount and he knelt so they could embrace, completely uncaring of the dust covering his rich doublet and breeches, or the smudges of ink on Tyrion's fingers. 

"I have missed you, brother," Jaime said, clasping him tightly to his chest, and was surprised to hear the thickness in his voice.

"I have missed you too," Tyrion said, his voice tremulous.

Jaime stood up and greeted his uncle. "Welcome back, Jaime," he said, clasping his shoulder. Dorna pressed a soft kiss on Jaime's cheek. "I received a raven informing us of your arrival and everything that's happened in King's Landing. You have much to tell us."

He nodded. "I do, but first I want to clean all the dust of the road and rest for a while."

"Of course, Jaime," Dorna said, "your rooms are ready for you. We will see you at supper."

…

"Is it true, then?" Tyrion asked following him into his room, he heaved himself up onto Jaime's bed and looked at him while he removed his outer garments. "Are you to marry Lysa Tully?"

Jaime turned to look at him with a frown. "No, are those the news you received?"

"You know father doesn't allow Uncle Kevan to share news with me, and you haven't written to me in several moons." There was a hint of reproach in Tyrion's pout and Jaime felt bad for him, knowing his brother had no more company than his letters and books. 

He had thought about his brother many times, but he rarely wrote to him. Writing was a painful experience for Jaime, one his father saw as a failure due to his terrible penmanship and the frequent mistakes in his letters. He had tried to explain to his father that the letters shifted around and he couldn't help it, but Tywin couldn't abide any imperfections in his heir and his only response had been to double Jaime's study hours. He had learned not to say anything after that.

"I am to marry, but not Lysa Tully." He told the entire tale to his brother, who listened raptly, hanging onto his every word. Tyrion didn't interrupt him for once, though Jaime could see in the looking glass over the basin how he was bouncing up and down on the bed, almost vibrating with excitement. Jaime told everything, from the moment he saw Brienne for the first time in the market to Selwyn Tarth's invitation to visit his island. Tyrion had smiled widely when he had heard about Selwyn facing Tywin and winning, had clenched his little fists when Jaime told him about how he had defended his daughter from the Septa and from Cersei. 

"Tarth," Tyrion said once Jaime had finished speaking. He had changed into a clean undershirt and doublet and tied his hair on the back of his head, then he had climbed on the bed and sat cross-legged facing his brother. "I don't know much about the island."

"You have time to learn, I'm sure you'll find some book with its history in the library."

Tyrion rolled his eyes, an expression he had to have learned during Jaime's absence. "In the Citadel maybe, not in Casterly Rock." He fell silent for a moment before asking the question Jaime knew he wanted to ask. "Is she really so ugly, your betrothed?"

Jaime thought about it. "She's your age, but very tall. Her father is about the size of a Clegane, but with much better temper, and she will be as tall as he is, I think. Big as well," he remembered her holding hands with Cersei, how they had contrasted in shade but were almost the same size. "Her hands are almost as big as a grown woman's, and she has freckles everywhere. She has huge blue eyes, very pretty. The prettiest I've ever seen. She's also very brave, foolishly brave," he said, remembering how she had warded her attacker off with a stick, and how she had walked hand in hand with Cersei, knowing she was being made fun of and yet keeping her back straight and her chin up.

Tyrion was looking at him with a wistful expression. "You like her." 

Jaime made a face. Brienne was still a child. " _Not like that._ She reminds me of you."

"Because she's ugly, like me." There was the kind of resignation in Tyrion's voice Jaime had seen in Brienne's tears that first time. 

"Because that's all people see, and they're wrong." He stood from the bed. "Come on Tyrion, supper must be ready and I'm famished after the trip."

"She's lucky it was you," Tyrion said, getting down from the bed as well, a lot less gracefully than Jaime. "Another man forced to marry an ugly girl would hate her. You can come to love her." Jaime stopped and turned to his brother, a question on his face. He still loved Cersei, as much as he now also hated her, but he didn't think about loving anyone now. Not Brienne, not anyone else. "I'm ugly, and you love me."

There was nothing Jaime could say to that and Tyrion didn't seem to need a reply, he just opened the door and they went down to meet their uncle and aunt for supper.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Brienne's POV.


	5. Brienne

Brienne ran out of her cabin as soon as she found Tarth was within sight of the ship. 

Her father was already standing on the deck staring as the island came within view, he dropped his hand on top of her head as she leaned forward on the railing, going on tiptoes to see it better. Something uncoiled inside of Brienne at the sight of Tarth, of the verdant mountains and the blue waters around it. _Home_. 

She had missed it, missed the hills and coves, missed Evenfall with its dusty secret rooms and the singers her father usually got for her, and being able to play with her wooden sword and go around with her pony. They had only been away for less than a moon but everything had changed so much in that time, she wanted to be home and for everything to be the same.

She had left the safe confines of her home filled with excitement to see the capital, even if it was with Septa Roelle, who was always belittling her for all her faults. She had imagined, when her father had told her they would spend some time in the court, that there would be other girls and boys her age she might make friends with. She didn't have any in the island, the sons and daughters of nobles were either too young or too old to play with her, or they just didn't want to. 

Brienne had missed having a friend since Galladon died.

King's Landing had not been what she imagined; it was dirty and crowded and smelly, nothing like the open spaces and the briny smell that permeated Tarth, even in the towns further from the coast. The people in the court were always perfumed, their laughs strident and fake, their clothes lavish and ostentatious while outside the walls of the keep there were many people starving. She had never seen hungry people like that in Tarth, where the land and the sea gave everything to them, and her father made sure everyone had enough to live.

Brienne had disliked the court since the first day; not only she hadn't made any friends but people were much crueller there where appearance was the most important thing to people, she was a preferred target because of her looks and how timid she was. Brienne knew she was bigger than most girls and boys her age, and her face wasn't pleasant to look at, she had heard enough people calling her ugly not to know. She had hoped some boys or girls wouldn't care about that but it wasn't so. 

In the end, she had tired of being alone among so many other people her age, had tired of their insults when she tried to approach them. That had been the reason she had insisted on going to the market, had begged and cajoled until her father had agreed to send her with Septa Roelle. She had known there would be hell to pay; Septa Roelle hated her and doing anything for her, and once forced by her father she would take it out on Brienne, one way or another.

It had been a fair price to pay to see real people and all the beautiful things sold in the stalls. 

And to meet Jaime.

Her stomach clenched thinking about Jaime. For a moment, pressed against the wall with Septa Roelle screaming in her ear and the men advancing on her, she had prayed to the Warrior for help. When he had stepped forward, golden and beautiful and so good with the sword, it had been normal for her to assume Jaime was the Warrior who had come to save her because she always prayed to him, even when Septa Roelle forced her to kneel in front of the Maiden.

He'd saved her again when he had told her father about _her_. Brienne had wanted to say something before, but the voice in her head that sounded like Septa Roelle always told her she was a child and they wouldn't believe her, not when she made sure to be nothing but courteous in front of her father. 

But her father had believed her thanks to Jaime. 

She had dreamt that night about marrying someone like him, beautiful and chivalrous and kind. Though even then Brienne had known it was impossible that Jaime Lannister would ever marry Brienne of Tarth, she was far below his station.

It had been a nice dream, though. 

Until it had turned into a nightmare.

"We're almost home," her father said, looking down at her with the same concern that had been on his face since they left the Tower of the Hand and King's Landing. 

Brienne smiled at him and then turned back to watch the island getting closer and closer until she could see the people going around their business in the harbour, could see the shadow of Evenfall on the far side of the town. She took her father's hand and walked with him to where Ser Wynder, the castellan, was waiting for them with their horses. 

"Lord Selwyn, I hope you had a pleasant trip," Wynder said, handing her father the reins of his, a sweet-tempered black rouncy big enough to carry someone of his stature.

"Pleasant enough, we have much to talk about once we have rested some at home." Brienne guessed she was going to be the subject of most of that conversation. Her and Jaime Lannister. "Did you get what I requested?"

"Here it is, my Lord," he said, handing him the reins of a slightly smaller horse. 

Her father turned around then with a smile. "I was going to wait until your nameday." She looked between the horse and her father, almost bouncing on the spot when she realized the meaning of his words. She had been asking for her own horse, instead of a pony, since her last nameday. She could ride it on her own, she was tall enough for that. 

"For me?" She asked, her voice breaking. Her eyes were stinging, but this time the tears were much happier than the previous ones and she let them fall. 

"For you," her father confirmed and she launched herself at him with a lack of decorum for a Lady that would have got her scolded before, her father just laughed and hugged her tighter. "She's called Sugar, unless you want to name her differently."

She looked at Sugar and thought the name was perfect for her, a sweet-looking mare with a shiny chestnut coat and some darker spots in her flank. Brienne shook her head, a wide smile on her face. "She's perfect," she said, her hands shaking with excitement when she grabbed the reins. " _Sugar_." 

Her father helped her mount and then got on his own horse, turning to her with a real smile, so much different from any she had seen in King's Landing, the one reserved just for her and their island.

"Let's go home."

…

The first letter arrived three moons after their return to Tarth. 

Time always passed slowly in Tarth, the warm days of spring in the island stretched lazily making the time spent in King's Landing seem like it had been a lifetime ago. Her new Septa had arrived a fortnight after their return, and though stern when it came to chasing Brienne and making her sit for her lessons, Septa Kelrey was matronly and kind. She never insulted Brienne or pulled on her hair or hit her, and she never criticized Brienne's efforts with a needle. She was still appallingly bad at it, but Septa Kelrey had the patience to keep on teaching her without mocking everything she made. 

Brienne had also asked for permission from her father to learn sword fighting from Ser Goodwin. Selwyn had given it after he caught her practising on her own with her wooden sword, saying that as stubborn as she was, she was likely to keep trying. "If you're going to do something, it's better to learn to do it properly," he had told her on her nameday, when he had ordered Ser Goodwin to teach his daughter the same as the other boys in the keep. 

She practised every day, and it always made her think of Jaime, of the expert way he had swung his sword and how quick he'd been, the grace of his movements. The news of Brienne's betrothal to Jaime Lannister had spread like wildfire around the island, the Lannister name and reputation bringing people to gawk at her those first few days back. She had heard them talking about it when she was riding Sugar around the keep, or when she went down to the town with her father, or when she went swimming at the cove. 

They always looked at her with shocked expressions, their voices loud enough for her to hear. 

_"He's said to be the most beautiful man in Westeros, and he's been saddled with her?"_

_"Hopefully she will grow more womanly with time, she can't grow uglier."_

_"So the Lannisters will take over Tarth, greedy, ruthless people. They're going to exploit us all."_

Her father had taken her aside the first time he found her whacking at a tree with her wooden sword, eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. 

"Don't listen to them, my child, words are wind," he had told her. "Many of their words are fueled by envy."

"Like Cersei's?" She had asked him, the first time she had ever mentioned what had happened that last night in King's Landing. He had asked her before what had Cersei done and said to her that she had been on the verge of tears that night when she entered the Tower of the Hand, alone and wearing a mockery of a dress. 

She hadn't told him about the ones she had already spilled, or about the cruelties disguised as kindness she had endured. She never did.

Her father's eyes had narrowed and his jaw had become tight. "Yes, like Cersei's."

Brienne wished that was true, it would mean Cersei's words had been lies. She wasn't richer or prettier than Cersei, though, didn't have anything she might want except for a promise to marry her brother that had been forced upon the two of them. 

Cersei had been unnecessarily cruel, but she hadn't lied when she had sat Brienne in the vanity to show her the results of an hour of dress changes and trying to fix her hair to make her look more like a Lady for their supper with Tywin Lannister. 

"My father is very strict," Cersei had said on the way from the rooms Brienne shared with her father to the Maiden Vault, her voice soft and kind. She was holding onto Brienne's hand as they walked, and Brienne noticed they were almost equally big. She was also tall enough to reach her chin, though Cersei was much older than her. It made her feel oafish and lumbering, knowing she would reach her father's stature and tower over everyone. "He was very upset by the royal decree that betrothed you to Jaime." She had lowered her voice conspiratorially, imparting a secret. "My brother was supposed to marry someone else, you see, though it hadn't been made official yet. He was looking forward to it; it's the reason he came to King's Landing, to be with the woman he loves."

Brienne had not known what to say then, she had been aware even then that she was being used to make fun of Jaime for saving her, but she had not known he had lost his love because of her. Her face had fallen then.

"It's not your fault, dear, the King was in a strange mood today," Cersei had said, but she sounded like Septa Roelle did when praising Brienne in front of her father. "If we can get you looking like a proper Lannister Lady, my father will be much happier with Jaime and you."

That had been the reason Brienne had let herself be stripped and put into different dresses, all of them red and gold, all of them wrong. Cersei and her friends had been there, laughing and clicking their tongues as the servants put Brienne in different dresses that were either too short or too tight. One of them had ripped at the seams when the servant had pulled the laces to close it too hard. Brienne had felt on the verge of tears the entire time, telling herself her good-sister was being kind, but her laughter and the way she looked at Brienne in the mirror told a different story. 

"Try to braid her hair like mine," Cersei had ordered one of the servants, who had made Brienne sit and started pulling at her hair. She had moaned in pain when she pulled too hard, and Cersei had pressed her lips together. "Don't be a baby, Lady Brienne, we all have to suffer a bit of pain to look good. In your case, more than a bit is needed."

That had been the moment Cersei had let her mask drop, the look in her eyes the same as Septa Roelle's when she used to tell Brienne she should have died instead of Galladon.

Brienne had bit her lips then and tried not to cry. She had tried when after the braids, Cersei had declared they were badly done and they had tried a different style, and then a third, the servant pulling at her hair harder and harder each time, trying to get a response from Brienne. Septa Roelle had also liked to pull Brienne's hair to make her cry, Brienne had gritted her teeth and denied her for as long as she could.

"This is useless," Cersei had exclaimed an eternity later, standing from where she was and approaching Brienne. "Just tie her hair up however you can so we can get to supper, we'll starve here before you make her look pretty." 

That was when Brienne had finally lost the battle with her tears, letting them fall silently down her cheeks. 

"You understand, don't you?" Cersei said with the same cloying sweetness she had used before. "Your marriage has been made as a joke and will never be anything but that. Jaime doesn't love you, will never love you. He probably regrets not having turned his back on you in the market and let you die. Now he will have to marry you instead of being with the woman he loves because he's too honourable. _Stand up_ ," she ordered and Brienne did, everything around her blurred and indistinct. "Look at us." She did, wiping her eyes so she could see, they wouldn't leave here until Brienne had seen what she wanted to show her. Cersei was standing there in a dress similar in style to the one they had put on her, but it fitted her perfectly and showcased her womanly curves. Brienne, on the other hand, had been stuffed into a dress that was at the same time too tight in the shoulders and too loose in the chest, which she had none yet, and too short. Where Cersei's hair was beautifully braided on top and fell in soft waves down her back, Brienne's was bunched and clipped to her head, making her look like a half plucked chicken. "I am a Lannister, and you, who will become the Lady of Casterly Rock, look like a fool in our colours." She turned to the servant again. "Clean her face, we need to get to the supper shortly and she can't look like she has been crying, what would her father think if she makes a spectacle of herself with any kindness shown to her?"

They had left shortly after that, Jaime was already outside waiting for them. Brienne had been too ashamed to say anything, her face burning and her eyes stinging again, even though this time she didn't cry. She hadn't cried later at the sight of her father's expression closing off like it only did when he was furious, or at Tywin Lannister's scary face. Hadn't cried later, when her father asked what had happened, and hadn't cried when they were back in Tarth at the unkind words of other people. 

Cersei's words had not left her, though. Not her mocking ones or the insults about her appearance, she had heard many variations of those and would hear a lot more, the looking glass had shown her the truth. 

It was the other what crept into her thoughts when she thought about Jaime, how he probably wished he had let her die, how he'd be married to the woman he loved if not for Brienne. Those were the words that always made Brienne want to grab her sword and hit something. 

She had imagined his promise to write to Selwyn would be wind like all words were, but it appeared he wasn't like everyone else in this as well. 

Her father called Brienne to his solar6, dismissing Ellyn, the companion he had taken the previous moon. Brienne disliked Ellyn, a merchant's daughter from the town who was half her father's age, she had been one of the people coming to gawk at her when she was beginning to train with her sword, that was how she had caught Selwyn's eye.

"We just received a letter from Ser Jaime," he said with a wide smile, the name made Brienne's heart lurch. "I was beginning to think I had misjudged the boy, but he has kept his word. Come, child, sit with me while I read it." He patted his lap and Brienne sat on it, the way she had always done when she was younger. 

"To Lord Selwyn, the Evenstar

Allow me to begin by apologizing to you, writing letters has never been my forte, and I had been away from my home and my brother long enough that upon my return we had much to catch up. It is my brother Tyrion who has helped me with this letter, having grown tired of my complaints when looking at an empty paper, and he's the one you have to thank for not being subjected to my _atrocious penmanship_ , according to my old Septon. I have spoken about him before, and I shan't praise him anymore least his head grows bigger than it already is. All japing aside, my brother has spent the last moon gathering information about Tarth and lecturing me about it; I'm sure you already know how beautiful your home is, and everything about Ser Galladon of Morne and the Just Maid. I had heard the tale before, but never in such detail and I never knew there were so many poems and songs dedicated to the bluest waters and the greenest peaks, and the valleys and meadows. I can't wait to see it with my own eyes, and I hope my brother is also welcome when I visit. 

How's Lady Brienne faring? I'm afraid her last impression of my family must have been a poor one, I hope to change that. My brother is her age, and I think they could benefit from writing to one another; he doesn't have any friends his age in Casterly and since my father's return my time is being consumed more and more with lessons. Possibly Lady Brienne will need them if she's to follow you as Evenstar, but they are so dreary some days I wish I wasn't going to become Lord Lannister and could just be a hedge knight, roaming around the country having adventures and saving maidens.

I'm sure you've already heard about my father resigning as Hand and everything else that happened during Lord Whent's tourney at Harrenhal, I have never seen so many ravens flying everywhere. I know there are rumours of me being the mystery knight, but rest assured if I had participated, I would have done it wearing my colours. I wish I had been there, however, my father had forbidden me to attend fearing the King would use my presence against him the same way he did during the court.

I've had time to think about what happened in King's Landing, and I don't regret it, I would do it again. 

I have to go back to my lessons now lest I displease my father again.

Please give my regards to Lady Brienne, with my hope she and you are faring well and that we will hear from you soon. 

Your friend, 

Jaime Lannister."

Selwyn was smiling at her by the time he finished reading. "I was right about the boy," was all the said, but Brienne barely heard him. 

She had barely heard anything past that one sentence. _I don't regret it, I would do it again._

She didn't notice when the tears began, just that her father held her tighter against him.

...


	6. Interval - Epistolary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to update two chapters together because the second one is smaller. Let me say now I know nothing of the art of letter writing in medieval times and what little I could research was very complicated. I hope I haven't messed up too much with the letters.

"Ser Jaime Lannister, 

Your past letter was well received, I am ashamed to admit I had almost lost hope that you would write to us again, but I stand happily corrected. Please give my regards to your brother and extend our invitation to him to come and visit with you, we will be very happy to have a scholar with an interest for our island, there might be some treasures here for him to find.

Ser Galladon is indeed a local legend and a favourite of Brienne. She has always admired knights, one of the reasons she was so excited to visit King's Landing. I have to admit a great disappointment for both of us, the court has not changed and neither have the people there. I had never wanted to subject my child to that scorn and backstabbing, one of the reasons I have kept away from that place. 

I am grateful for you saving her. I will always be grateful for your intervention not only against those thugs but also the kindness you showed her after the king's decree. I'm sure this had been said before, but that kind of kindness is a rare virtue.

Brienne has been much happier since our return, she's very taken with her new horse, a present for her nameday, and is now learning how to use a sword. While it's not usually taught to women, it is what she wanted to do and I have always had trouble saying no to Brienne, especially since her brother died. You will be glad to know I have engaged the services of another septa for Brienne's learning, one that is not abusing my child and lying to my face. She is much happier with Septa Kelrey, something we also have you to thank for.

We have heard about the recent events, of course we have. We are a small island, but the ravens have reached us here as well.

Tarth looks to Storm's End and we keep close relationships with Dorne; though the news of your father's resignation had reached us it is the prince's behaviour what has been discussed here mainly. Robert Baratheon is betrothed to Lyanna Stark and was furious that the prince gave such an openly courting gift to his intended. I fear that things are getting worse everywhere, we all had great hopes for Prince Rhaegar, but this insult to his wife, and to Dorne, spell trouble. 

I don't like the way the wind is blowing, I'm not going to lie. 

I have also heard of your sister's betrothal to Edmure Tully, please pass on my congratulations to her. 

We have received an invitation for the wedding of Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully, which I assume you will be attending as well considering the relations between all your families. Unfortunately, we can't attend as much as Brienne would have wanted to meet her new friend there, but please give my regards to your family. 

Always your friend, 

Lord Selwyn Tarth, Evenstar."

…

"Lord Selwyn, 

I'm sure by now the news have spread around the Seven Kingdoms; there's been no wedding in Riverrun and with the latest ravens that have arrived from the capital, there will not be one in the near future. Brandon Stark is headed to King's Landing to demand the return of his sister, though I remember the king and I don't expect he'll be eager to comply.

We'll be making our way back to Casterly Rock on the morrow, my sister is back with us though her engagement stands, as much as she would have liked to see it broken.

We travelled to Riverrun a few days before the event and our party arrived at the same time as the party from the Vale. I know Tarth looks to Storm's End and Lord Robert is your liege and I don't want to give offence, let's just say I enjoyed the company of Eddard Stark more than his. Ned's as warm as all northerners, though I have heard his brother occasionally cracks a smile, but at least his hands don't wander as much nor he drinks a much wine as his friend. He's also handy with a sword, not as good as I am, but at least he uses a sword and not a hammer.

My sister was also there. I had not seen her in the moons since King's Landing, and you might remember our parting had not been in the best of terms. You see, I was the one supposed to marry into the Tullys, though it had not been formalized yet. I didn't know then but Lord Hoster was only in King's Landing at that time to discuss Lysa's dowry with my father. Instead, you know what happened. My father, never a man to let go easily of things, forged the alliance with Riverrun through my sister then. 

She has not yet forgiven me for the part I played in those events, and I don't think I have forgiven her either for her reaction to them. We both know what we saw during that dinner wasn't kindness, I should have apologized then to Brienne for subjecting her to my sister's anger, misdirected as it was.

I'll be candid with you, Lord Selwyn; I much prefer the betrothed I left with to the one I was supposed to get then. I had spent some time before in Riverrun and though I had a cordial relationship with her, I don't believe Lysa and I would be a good match, and I had the feeling her interest was somewhere else. It's true that Brienne is much too young and for that, I'm also grateful since we can't be married immediately. I didn't want to marry, not now that I have just been knighted and before I had gone on any adventures. 

But I have spoken about myself enough, how are you faring, Lord Selwyn? And how is Lady Brienne? You told me she was learning how to fight? I would love to see her progress, I remember she tried to ward off one of her attackers with a stick, and even then I thought she was brave. I am glad to hear her new septa is a much gentler woman. Is she enjoying the correspondence with my brother? I know Tyrion is very excited with their letter exchange and he writes considerably faster than I do. He has been asking when are we going to visit Tarth, though with the current unrest it will be some time until we can. 

Your friend, 

Jaime Lannister."

…

"Ser Jaime, 

The news that have made it to Tarth are discouraging; we have all heard about Lord Rikard and Brandon Stark and the savage execution of them and their men. We don't know what's going to happen, I fear there will be a war.

King Aerys has been going down a path of darkness for a long time if you care to remember his appearance in the court, but we had always hoped Rhaegar would become a good ruler in time. The King had not always been thus, as your father can probably tell you, and when he returned after his captivity we all hoped he would recover. 

It became evident he wouldn't some years ago, most of the Lords already settled began evading the court. I wouldn't have been there except the marble trade with the Vale had finished and I needed to draw up some contracts with Lord Rosby and some of his associates. Tarth is not a rich island, as you well know, and we rely on both our port taxes and our marble mines. That was the only reason I took myself and Brienne to the capital. I can't say I regret it, because Brienne has been much happier with her new septa and her new friend, your brother Tyrion, though they have never met yet. Those things have only happened thanks to you, Ser Jaime, and for that I'll always be grateful.

Brienne has already charted the places on the island where she is going to take him to visit, and I had to discourage her from suggesting the most strenuous of activities. I reminded her that your brother is more of a scholar than an adventurer, and now she has been searching for books to show him. She has also made a lot of progress in her training, or so Ser Goodwin tells me, astounding progress for an untrained girl were his exact words. She says one day she will beat you, she's stubborn enough that she will keep trying until she does. 

Please write with news from the Westerlands when you can, I fear there are no more good tidings to share for now. 

Always your friend, 

Lord Selwyn Tarth, Evenstar."

…

"Lord Selwyn, 

Lord Arryn has called his banners, or at least that's what I hear in the corridors of Casterly Rock, where people can talk about nothing but that lately. It has become commonplace to see people huddled in corners and whispering among themselves, falling silent as soon as I come within hearing range. 

We are at the verge of war and nobody knows what my father will do. I don't know it either. I know what I want to do. I want to join Jon Arryn and the rebels, however, it's not as easy as that or so I've been told. Not all the Vale is declaring for their liege and they are supporting the Crown instead, Ned and Robert need to raise their own banners as well. I have heard about the Vale's royalists blocking them from reaching Gulltown, and the battle that ensued later there though I know nothing of the result. 

My father hasn't confided in me or allowed me to sit with him and Uncle Kevan when they discuss the future of our house. I am supposed to be the heir, I'm already six and ten and a knight, and yet, my father orders me around like a green squire, has me doing sums and seeing the people who come with grievances to the castle, but bars me from his office where I could learn something useful.

I don't like sitting idle, especially when there is much to be done out there. You probably already guessed that from our short acquaintance in King's Landing. I don't like war, and I don't like killing but I was trained to fight and sitting here waiting for my father to decide our future it's the hardest thing for me. 

I might also be trying to escape Casterly Rock, as my brother puts it. Cersei came back from the Riverlands with us but we haven't mended our relationship. You know, we were very close when we were growing up, being twins and almost indistinguishable from each other, but we grew apart. I went to squire for Lord Cakehall and she went to court. She was not the person I remembered. Things with her have been uncomfortable.

But let me inquire about more cheerful things. How is Lady Brienne's training progressing? I'm afraid that with war looming over all of us, mine and my brother's visit to Tarth will have to wait. However, that gives her more time to train and find new spots to show Tyrion. 

Please ask her to find some place to show me as well, lest I grow jealous of my own brother. 

Your friend, 

Jaime Lannister."

…

"Ser Jaime, 

Lord Robert had raised his banners. 

I have to admit here that I am glad Tarth is a small island with no army to send, there is no expectation of us sending just an ageing Lord and his master at arms to respond the call. Don't mistake my words for cowardice, though, I would sail to the Stormlands and fight for my liege lord if I had more than twenty men to bring with me, and someone to care for my child if I fail to return. 

I will not declare for the crown, not that it will surprise you to know that. 

There are other stormlords declaring for the king, I have heard Highgarden and the Reach are also declaring for Targaryen. Tarth is, and always has been, kept separated from most wars thanks to our position outside the land itself. 

Nobody knows whether your father is siding with one or the other, it's making lots of people very nervous. You know the size of your father's army and the depths of his pockets to expand it if needed. It is rumoured that the moment your father picks a side, he's picking a winner. Let's hope he picks the right side. 

I know it chafes to be kept apart from the action but not the duties, believe or not, I was once six and ten and next in line to become Evenstar, a prize not as big as Casterly Rock but the lessons are the same. I remember how much I hated staying inside with the septon while all my friends were outside in the yard training. All those friends became knights, some joined the Stormlands army, others chose to become hedge knights and seek fortunes. At most, some of my friends are married and have children, and are responsible for the lives of their families. 

I am responsible for an entire island, and though I can wield a sword and fight if needed, it is the lessons I so despised which serve me well now. Don't think so little of yours. 

Brienne was understandably upset that you will not be coming soon. It was difficult to make her understand about the war when it's not touching us here, but she has promised to keep training so she can properly face you when you do. She asked me to tell you you need not be jealous, she already had a place to show you, the courtyard where you'll fight. 

I hope this brings a smile on this trying times. I will be watching for your next letter, 

Always your friend, 

Lord Selwyn Tarth, Evenstar."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Robert's Rebellion.  
> Yes, I'm doing the ten year time skips the long way around :)


	7. Jaime

The ravens were flying daily bringing darker and darker words with them. 

His father and uncle had taken to spending as much time as possible in his father's solar, the permanent frown etched in their brows deepening each day. Nobody was talking about it, at least in front of Jaime, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air, all eyes turned to Casterly Rock awaiting the decision of one man. So far the fighting has been confined to the Vale and the Stormlands, Jaime was glad Tarth was so distant from the mainland, but it was certainly going to spread as the North marched down to aid Jon Arryn and seek revenge for the murder of Lord Rickard and Brandon. 

Out of the three lords rebelling, Jaime believed it was Ned Stark who had the most reasons. Jaime didn't like that they were just waiting, he would have already marched out to meet the Vale and Northern armies with the Lannister contingent at his back.

His father had called him a fool. 

"You are an impulsive green boy, not a battle commander," his father had said when Jaime protested during one of the few dinners Tywin attended anymore. "Just because you know how to swing a sword doesn't mean you know anything about war and politics."

Jaime had flushed, words pushing against his teeth to be let out. He had bitten them back at his uncle's short head shake. " _Then teach me_ ," he had countered, keeping his tone measured. "I don't understand what we're waiting for and I never will unless you teach me."

Tywin hadn't said anything else that night and Jaime had not insisted, had kept on with his duties around the castle and training in the yard with the master at arms. He still spent time with Tyrion, though since the return of Tywin and Cersei his brother tended to make himself scarce. Jaime knew to go find him in the library when he had a need of him, either writing a letter to Brienne at his writing desk or in the little alcove at the back of the library, reading a book twice as big as he was and a hundred times older.

"Our sweet sister never comes to the library, and father doesn't have time anymore," Tyrion had said when Jaime asked why he spent so much time there, and there was nothing he could say to that. "It's the safest place for me to hide."

Sometimes Jaime also wanted to hide from his sister's gaze.

Jaime hadn't had any significant conversation with Cersei since their return from Riverrun, and not even there had they exchanged words of any import. Jaime could feel her eyes on him, expectant, assessing, but she had not approached him. As the days passed without Jaime seeking her out, her looks had become colder, angrier. In the past, after they had any kind of fight it would always be Jaime who went to her, who chased her forgiveness and grovelled if needed unable to stand the distance between them. It made him wonder whether they would have reconciled anytime before had it not been for him and if he had heard an apology from her lips since they were kids. 

If Tywin had noticed the distance and tension between his children, he had made no comment on it. Nobody but the servants and the family to see it here. 

On the fourth day after that night, a servant called Jaime from his lessons. He had been sitting in the library going over the accounts, something he loathed but at least didn't trip him as much; numbers were much easier than letters for him. "Your father wants to see you in his solar," the servant said.

He wondered what he had done this time, but he couldn't recall anything. The realm might have been in chaos, but Casterly Rock remained the same, and Jaime's days were as tedious as they had been before he went to squire. 

He entered the solar after a short knock, his father calling him in. 

"Close the door, come here," Tywin said. 

_Here_ was the table where a map of the seven kingdoms was spread. Next to it, Uncle Kevan was staring at some pieces set on it with a pensive frown on his face. He looked up when Jaime closed the door and sent him a brief smile. "Jaime, what do you see?" his uncle asked. Jaime looked between his father and his uncle, his father looked pointedly at the table. 

Jaime approached it and stared at the map, there were wolf pieces halfway through the north, falcons around the Eyre and stags crossing the Stormlands. He looked at the rest of the pieces, there were a few scattered ones around the Vale but not enough to be of any import. The trouts in the Riverlands were clustered in Riverrun, and so were the Lions in the Rock. Those were the undeclared mayor houses. The Martell sun was stuck in Sunpear, where it wouldn't stay for long considering Elia was still married to the prince and kept as a hostage by the king, but there was movement from the roses. 

He looked up at his father. "Your uncle has convinced me you are right, if you are going to be a Lannister commander, you need to learn," Tywin said, it was the first time Jaime had ever seen him admit he might be wrong about something. "Now tell me what you see."

This was a test, but Jaime was suddenly certain it was one he could pass. He had been in the tent with Ser Arthur and his brothers when they were chasing after the Brotherhood, and though nobody had paid any attention to him then, that didn't mean he hadn't listened to what they said. He looked at the map now, noting the position of all the pieces and where they were facing. There was one big piece missing, the movements they didn't know, and it was the most important piece of the board. Where was Rhaegar?

"The rebels are heading to Riverrun," he finally said. "Why? Why would all of them move towards Riverrun?" His father and his uncle exchanged a look but said nothing, Jaime walked around the map to see it from a different angle, considering. Hoster Tully had not declared but he was on the side of the rebels, he was just too prudent to raise his own banners without assurances--He stopped, looked at the stack of ravens on the other said of his father's desk. He would bet his sword hand there was at least one with the trout seal. "Tully is raising his banners, they have sealed the alliance." 

His father nodded sharply. "Yes."

"But Catelyn--Ned, is she marrying Brandon's brother?"

Kevan smiled approvingly, he had passed the test. "Yes, she is. What else do you see?"

There were no Targaryen markers on the map. He could see some archers somewhere around the Reach, Jaime frowned trying to remember where the sigil was from. Tarly, from the Reach, and they were on top of Robert's troops, or almost.

He extended a hand and traced the most likely path from Robert's position to Riverrun then looked at everyone's position in the map. "I don't see the king's forces."

"They're on the move, with a new commander," Tywin said, picking up some of the scrolls from his table. "I have enough friends left in King's Landing; the king has removed his last hand, he blames him for the failure to quash this rebellion in time, and appointed another one, Jon Connington this time." Jaime didn't know him, though he had heard of him during the campaign against the Brotherhood. He was a friend of the prince if he remembered correctly. "Connington is a good commander, and he can probably find Robert. Robert's forces have just met with Tarly and they have barely escaped."

He read the map again. "We're the closest to his position, if we're going to enter the war we should do it now."

Kevan sent his brother a look that clearly said _I told you_ , which Tywin ignored. "What is our gain if we side with the rebels?" he asked and Jaime opened his mouth to reply; the king had tended insult after insult to his father, had turned their old friendship into hatred and for other lords, that might be enough of a reason. Not for his father, though. Tywin was not emotional, he was rational, and for him to risk entering the war there had to be a compelling reason. "What's our gain if we side with the king?"

There wasn't one, not that Jaime could see. There would have been if Aerys was deposed and Rhaegar wasn't married, that had been one of the first insults to his father, who had been so convinced that Cersei would become Queen. 

Jaime looked at the map again, then at his father's desk and all the ravens there. "Who will be crowned afterwards? If the rebels win, who will be king?" Not Ned, Jaime knew him enough to know he wouldn't want the throne. Jon Arryn might, but somehow he knew it wasn't going to be him. 

"Robert, by right of conquest. Stark and Arryn are not ambitious enough for it."

"He'll need a wife then, and it's not going to be Lyanna Stark," Jaime said, testing the words out loud. It felt right, though, it would be something his father would do. He wouldn't claim the throne for himself, more content with being the power in the Westerlands and positioning the family so even the king was beholden to him. 

That was what real power was, and it was the only kind Tywin was interested in. 

"I am waiting for one more raven, but yes, he'll need a bride." He looked at Jaime appraisingly and inclined his head in a short nod, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Now I have many other things to discuss with your uncle, leave us and go back to your lessons. I don't need to tell you to say nothing of this to anyone, especially your sister."

Cersei was going to hate this.

...

It was the most depressing wedding Jaime had ever attended, not that he had attended many weddings. Riverrun hadn't been affected by the fight yet and the castle was the same Jaime remembered, sturdy and grey, same as Lord Hoster. 

As grey as the mood around the Sept.

Ned Stark was to wed Catelyn Tully, who had been betrothed to his brother Brandon before his death. It had been her wedding that got so rudely cancelled, and now both groom and bride were in mourning. Propriety dictated that they waited for a year to wed, but war waited for no man and Hoster Tully wouldn't raise his banners until he had sealed the alliance. Ned and Cat would be wedded and bedded that night, whether they were in the mood or not. 

Jaime had spent enough time around Ned Stark to know he would do his duty, and so would Cat, and them both would be gentle and careful with each other. They were both mourning the same person, after all. 

They were also, of the three couples, the ones looking less gloomy. 

Lysa Tully was about to marry Jon Arryn; this time there had been no discussions of dowry or chances to refuse, and though Arryn looked indifferent Lysa appeared to be on the verge of tears, her eyes flittering around the Sept looking for something or someone. And exit probably, which wasn't going to appear. Or that Baelish boy she was always chasing after.

She would marry Arryn, even when she clearly didn't want to. She was a Tully, and they had Family, Duty and Honour as their guide. 

The last couple were the ones who shouldn't have married at all. Cersei was stiff as a board, dressed in Lannister crimson and as beautiful as Jaime had ever seen. And twice as furious. By her side, looking like he would much rather be doing something else was not Edmure Tully, but Robert Baratheon.

It had all been arranged by Jon Arryn and his father, and neither bride nor groom were satisfied with it.

"We need the Lannister army," Jon Arryn had said to Robert with the air of someone who had repeated the same several times. Robert kept insisting he wanted no woman but Lyanna Stark, she was the reason he had gone to war. A lie, to be sure, Jaime had seen him in the brothel in Riverrun before they got the news of Lyanna's abduction, as loud as he proclaimed his love and devotion to her, he kept sinking his cock into any available whore or serving wench. He already had more bastards in the Stormlands and Riverlands than any other Lord his age. Jaime had also seen him after that day, drowning his fury and sorrow the same way he had celebrated his devotion before. "We have already ensured Hoster's cooperation, we need Tywin's"

"We don't need them. We have the Vale, the Stormlands, the Riverlands, and the North. We can crush the Targaryens without the Lannister."

"You were chased around the Stormlands by your own bannermen," Tywin had said, the distaste in his voice clear. "You would have perished at the hands of Jon Connington and his army if I hadn't brought my army to your aide."

Silence rang in the wake of Tywin's words, though he wasn't wrong. The Lannister army was the largest alongside Highgarden's, who were Targaryen loyalists. Dorne was in no position to deny the king, and there were rumours that Doran Martell was finally sending his troops to help the prince. The rebels had a chance as long as Tywin didn't align himself with the king and Jon Arryn knew it, Hoster Tully had also known it and had agreed to free Edmure of the betrothal so Cersei could be married to Robert Baratheon. It had been Uncle Kevan, leading a host of four thousand Lannister men, who had saved Robert's skin in Stoney Sept, though he had been wounded in the attack.

"Be sensible, Robert," Arryn had tried again. "Lyanna's gone. Even if we can rescue her, she has been with Rhaegar for several moons, she's been despoiled."

"I don't care, she's still Lyanna," Robert insisted. That was the first time that Jaime had agreed with anything coming out of Robert's mouth, however, the flush of anger on his face and the way he clenched his hand around his hammer at the idea of Lyanna no longer being a maid said all. 

"She might not even be alive, Robert, she's been gone for too long," It was Ned who finally got through to Robert, his voice quietly devastated. "We don't know what's happened to her. I love my sister, but we can't risk everything for her. We can defeat Aerys with Tywin."

He had let himself be convinced in the end, though it was hard to tell who looked less enthused by the prospect, him or Cersei. She should have been happy, though, Robert was already Lord Baratheon and she would be Lady of the Stormlands. And if they didn't die in the process, Robert would take the throne. It was what Cersei had always wanted since her father had said she'd marry Rhaegar one day, to be queen.

He looked at her now, her hand tied to that of Robert Baratheon, her eyes distant and remote, and wondered when the last time he had a real conversation with his sister had been. Probably before King's Landing, where they had done nothing but fight. Jaime missed his sister terribly, not the one he had left in King's Landing but the one he remembered from before, the one who swapped clothes with him and jumped cliffs, the one who would take his hand under the table when they were having dinner with their father if Jaime was being scolded, and the one who had cried in his chest when their mother had died. He wanted that Cersei back but knew that had only been part of her. 

She had only come talk to him once their father had informed her of the change in her intended.

"Did you know?" she had asked Jaime the day before they left Casterly Rock, her entire body stiff with anger. "Did you know father was going to sell me to another one?"

His silence had been all the answer she had needed. "Father forbade me to tell you." They both knew that would have not stopped him before, but they were different people now.

She had looked down to see the letter Jaime had been writing to Lord Selwyn, though he didn't know if he would finish it by the time they left. It would be a short one if he managed to finish it; there were no good news anymore though he missed hearing about Brienne. Cersei's lips had curled and she had just glared at him before leaving his room. She didn't speak to him again, before or after the wedding. There had been a small feast, but no calls for a bedding. Ned and Catelyn had quietly retired and so had Jon and Lysa. Robert had been drunk when he and Cersei had left, her jaw so tight Jaime feared she would ground her teeth into dust.

He had a stab of the old jealousy, though it was just for a heartbeat. It could have been his, her maidenhead, she had intended for it to be his and the price would have been Casterly Rock, a white cloak, and his willing compliance to her every whim. 

…

Jaime couldn't sleep. 

He turned in his bedroll, staring at the red canopy of his pavilion in the dim light of the campfires, the noises of thousands of soldiers around him. It wasn't the first time he was marching for a campaign, and it wasn't the first time he was sleeping on a bedroll on the ground. 

It was the first time he was in a war, though, that made all the difference. 

They were at war, and yet they were just camped around the Trident, an expanse of tents covering everything the eyes could see, filled with soldiers waiting. Jaime had expected something to happen once the alliances were set but nothing had. Not really. With Uncle Kevan wounded and on the way back to Casterly Rock, his father had elevated Jaime to commander, a gesture that had not sat well with everyone.

"You are now a commander in the Lannister army," Tywin had said, clasping Jaime in the shoulder. "You will stay here and attend all councils as is your due. You will command our men while I go back and raise the rest of the army."

Jaime had straightened under his look. "Yes, father." The Lannister host they had numbered ten thousand soldiers, most of the men older and more seasoned than Jaime, they hadn't liked the idea of a green boy of seven and ten leading them though they would never dare question Tywin's orders. 

"You wanted to learn, this is your chance. This is how you become a good commander."

That had been a fortnight ago, in that time Jaime had had to fight for every little scrap of respect while they marched towards the Trident, a trip that normally would take two or three days for a lone rider. It was a different kind of beast moving with an army the size of theirs, there had been some skirmishes along the way, but nothing worthy of note and he could see his men getting ansty, itching for the real battle.

Jaime groaned and turned again on the bed, slept kept evading him. With a frustrated sigh, he got up and grabbed his sword, which had been by his side. He was still clothed, he might be a green boy like some of his soldiers said, but he wasn't stupid. There was no way he was removing his clothes to sleep in the middle of a war. 

Outside, it was quiet. Everyone appeared to be asleep with the exception of the sentries, even the camp followers had retired for the night. Jaime had chosen to stay in the Lannister camp at night, not only to be with his men but also because it put some distance between him and Robert Baratheon. Whatever tensions there were between Jaime and his sister, he still had felt the urge to grab a sword and run Robert through when he had taken a camp follower back to his tent barely two days after his marriage. Ned Stark had looked at him with a pinched expression, Jaime had wondered how many times had he seen him doing that while proclaiming his love for Lyanna.

He walked between the camps, the crimson tents giving way to the grey of Starks, fifteen thousand Northerners who had come to fight for his Lord. Ned wasn't having an easy time of this war either, he was barely older than Jaime and already the Lord of Winterfell, leading his men in vengeance for his father and brother. His men respected him in spite of his youth. Maybe Jaime should try to be as brooding as he was.

"You can't sleep either?" Jaime turned at the voice, there sitting in front of one of the still-burning fires was Ned Stark, as if conjured by Jaime's wandering mind. He stood from where he was warming his hands on the fire, though Jaime didn't imagine the Lord of Winterfell really felt very cold in here, there wasn't even a hint of frost in the air in the darkest hour. 

"Rhaegar's army should reach the river tomorrow," Jaime said as if that explained everything, and maybe it did because Ned was nodding. "My father is also close with another ten thousand soldiers."

"We've been waiting here long enough." Too long, some would say, their men had been getting restless. There had been several fights between Lannister and Baratheon men which they had to break, and the number of whores and camp followers was half as many as there were soldiers. Nine months from now there would be many new bastards around the Trident.

"We have been riding all day and in a council meeting for the rest of the time. I think I have too much energy to properly sleep." It wasn't the full truth; he was scared. Tomorrow they would fight in a war. Jaime had been in a campaign, but chasing bandits with the Knights from the Kingsguard wasn't the same as leading ten thousand men in battle. Many of them would not return; Jaime wasn't scared of death, what was keeping him awake was the possibility that he would lead those men to their death because of his inexperience. 

He needed a distraction. He looked at Ned, he had his sword strapped to his hip, the same as Jaime, and he had an idea. 

"Care for a spar? It might tire us enough to get some sleep."

They squared off some distance from the tents but still close enough there was one fire providing them with some light. Jaime attacked first, as he usually did, too impatient now he had a sword in his hand. Ned parried it easily, blocking Jaime's sword with his own, moving in on his right. They clashed, naked steel ringing loud and true in the silent camp. Jaime felt his muscles unclench, the tension in his shoulders easing now he was fighting. This was easy, the step and slide and slide and step, Jaime pressed him, getting into Ned's defences and going for a backslash which made him take a step back. He smiled, the familiar surge of excitement in his veins, and pressed his advantage. Ned wasn't smiling, he had a slight frown of concentration on his brow, holding his defence just barely, not fast enough to parry all the hits, his footwork was good but nothing extraordinary. He was having problems keeping up with Jaime; Ned was a good swordsman, but not as good as Jaime. He kept pushing him, moving faster and faster until he had a chance to trip Ned. He fell on one knee and Jaime placed his sword against his throat. "Yield?"

"I yield," Ned said and Jaime moved his sword aside and extended a hand to him. 

They walked back to camp after two more bouts, Jaime finally feeling the strain in his muscles. "You need to close your defence better on the left side," Jaime said when they approached the border delimiting the Lannister and Stark camp. 

Ned nodded, both of them knew it wouldn't make a difference in the morning. There wouldn't be many one on one combats, but it made them feel better to keep the illusion for a few more hours. "Think you can sleep now?"

He did, and they said their goodbyes there. In the morning, Jaime would ride at the head of the Lannister Cavalry, Ned would lead his Northmen, and if the Seven were willing, they would meet again. 

...


	8. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New warnings added in the endnotes

The Red Fork was in chaos. 

Nothing could have prepared Jaime for the pure and absolute mayhem the battle would bring with it. He had known it, some part of him had always known war was messy and noisy and terrifying. It was a different thing to see it, though, to smell it and hear the cries of the wounded and dying. 

Jaime had no more time to spare any pity for them than he had to try to make sense of what was happening. 

They had left the camp at dawn, Jaime had slept a couple of hours after his impromptu spar with Ned Stark, his body still charged with the energy that a good fight generated. As soon as he had put his head on the pillow, he was dead to the world. He'd woken up at first light, one of his father's bannerman's son acting as his squire. The boy was barely three or four years younger than Jaime himself, he helped Jaime into his full Lannister armour and handed him his sword. His captains were already waiting for him outside the tent, armoured and with their blood already up, ready to fight.

"Targaryen forces have already been spotted at crossing points," Westerford, one of his captains informed him, falling into step with Jaime as they approached their horses. 

"Has my father arrived?"

"Not yet," Dogget said, "he's been spotted past the Whispering Wood, should arrive within the day."

Jaime nodded and mounted his horse, his captains following his example. "Set the archers on the riverbank, once they can see Raeghar's men's faces, they should retreat and call for the cavalry to take their place."

"Yes, Ser Jaime," Westerford acknowledged before spurring his horse and heading towards his men. 

"You keep your men ready for when they give the signal, the infantry will advance after."

Dogget took his orders to his men and that left Jaime advancing at the head of the cavalry. The fear from the night before was returning, making his hands shake. Jaime clenched his fists on the reins of his horse and took several deep breaths, the fear morphing into trepidation. Around him, thousands of men in Westerland's armour were probably feeling the same, and they were willing to follow him into battle. 

He couldn't be afraid, he couldn't be craven. 

Jaime took his position right behind the archers, the sun hadn't yet fully risen, the light greying and pale almost hiding the river from them. It was there, though, and they could hear the splashing of many horses trotting across the low point of the river. The noise was getting close. 

"Nock!" Westerford's voice came, loud and clear from Jaime's right. As a man, the archers took their arrows. "Draw!" The sound of a thousand strings being pulled tight. "Loose!" The strings snapping back into place, and the shouts of groans in front of them of those on the receiving end. "Nock!" The sound of hooves pounding was getting close. "Draw! Loose!" 

They repeated a few more times, getting more groans each repetition, but the horses were almost on the riverbank. 

"Retreat!" Westerford called to the archers. 

They moved quickly, getting out of the way of the charging beasts, then Jaime's cavalry began their advance, each of the captains shouting the name of their castle or lord, spurring their men into action. There were shouts of "Casterly Rock!" and it took Jaime a moment to realize they had come from him, the rush of blood to his head making all the noises mix into one gigantic roar.

They met in the riverbank, riders and beast armoured, swords drawn. The first wave crashed hard against each other, people tumbling from their mounts and being trampled by the ones coming after. Jaime kept himself on his horse, slashing at any enemy he could reach, his knees tight over its flank, the jarring impact of his sword against another sword, or armour or flesh, everything too fast for him to properly register. The enemy kept coming, though the wave of mounted soldiers was slowing down. Jaime received a hit on his side and almost tumbled off his horse, though he managed to turn around and unseat the one who had done it. Two more took their place, riders converging on his position, engaging him until Jaime had to move back, try to put some distance between him and the enemies. They were not the last ones, another two advanced in his direction, their intent too focused in the middle of the confusion. That was when Jaime realized they were targeting him, his Lannister armour and lion helm were too recognizable.

He held on for as long as he could, but Jaime was eventually unseated from his horse, the relentless attacks from the enemy driving him to the ground. He started hacking at the horses surrounding him then, making their riders fall and going after them while they were still stunned from their fall. He had his blood up in a way he had never felt before, not like when he fought against Ser Arthur or even like that time against the Brotherhood, those times it was all about the skill, the dance of blades and the excitement of facing another skilled person. Here, now, there was nothing more important than to keep breathing. There was no skill in ramming his sword into any crevice on his enemy's armour, no finesse in grabbing a rock from the ground and slamming it against someone's helmeted head until the helmet was dented, there was no excitement in the blood running down his face from a cut over his eyebrow, or in his hair matted with sweat. He lost count of how many people he killed, simply advancing with the tide of bodies moving from one place to the next. He might have been at it for hours, for days, for ages, his sword arm was the heaviest it had ever been but he kept moving, kept swinging his sword lest he stopped and someone gutted him for his troubles. 

A million years into this a hush fell around him, the tide receding for a moment. Not too far in the distance he could see two figures engaged in single combat, he couldn't see their colours in the greying light, though the horns in one helmet and the dragon wings in the other made it easy to identify them. Robert had found the prince. Jaime watched for a moment how they exchanged blows, Robert swinging his huge hammer with enough force to unseat Rhaegar from his destrier as Jaime looked. 

A sudden scream to his right had him turning his head just in time to see a horse advancing on him, and he rolled out of the way lest his distraction cost him dearly. Let Robert and Rhaegar kill each other for a woman, Jaime had more pressing concerns. He dove into the battle again, already exhausted, each breath burning in his lungs, each swing of his sword weighing a ton. 

He heard the charge of another cavalry before he saw anything, a sea of crimson advancing to join the fight. His father had arrived. Quickly, he located a horse with no rider and mounted it, pointing it in the direction of his father's army. If he knew Tywin, he wouldn't be leading the charge but would be close enough to give commands to his captains. 

Jaime had lost his helmet somewhere in the battle, his cloak was ripped and his armour was dented. He was allowed access to his father on sight, either his blood dripping sword or the expression on his face making people move aside. There was new respect on the captain's faces when he approached them, though his father just looked him up and down with pursed lips, his eyes not missing any tiny detail of his appearance. And drawing whatever conclusions from them. 

"Commanders are not expendable, Jaime, you least of all," was all he said, nodding to the captain riding by his side to move so Jaime could take his place. "The Targaryen forces are retreating," Tywin continued, their horses moving at a pace. "Robert has defeated Rhaegar and the army is breaking up. There is a chance that Aerys hasn't received the news of our alliance yet, I'll march to King's Landing with the army I brought here and take the city."

Jaime was overwhelmed by relief at his words, the fighting was done then. It was impossible for him to tell how many hours they had been at it, there hadn't been a real day, the sun hiding behind clouds all day as if reluctant to watch the carnage, leaving everything grey and faded.

He looked around, where soldiers were still killing each other, there was movement though, pockets of soldiers moving towards the river, the ranks reforming slowly to give chase. Jaime looked in the direction he had seen Robert fight before, he didn't know how long ago it had been, then looked at his father. 

"The army is broken but you can't afford to let it reform, not while Aerys is alive and has another heir."

He was right, though it was something easy to say for the one who had just arrived. "We'll give chase in the morrow, now my men need sleep." Those still living, at least. 

So did Jaime, though he wasn't going to get it yet. 

Tywin nodded sharply at him, turned to his captains and started barking orders at them. Jaime knew when had been dismissed, turned his horse in the direction he had last seen the Baratheon army and went there. He called orders to his men as he saw them, Westerford and his company of archers were chasing the Targaryen stragglers. "Prince Rhaegar is dead," he said and a cheer went up among his men. "Call retreat, go back to camp."

"What about them?" Westerford pointed at the retreating men.

"This is our victory, let them run, your men have earned a rest. We'll get them in the morrow." 

Jaime held tightly on the reins of the horse as he rode, now the battle was done he was feeling the effects of the bloodlust that had carried him through it, his hands were shaking and he'd had to sheathe his sword, the stench of blood all over the metal making him sick now. He felt dirty and sticky with blood, his and his enemies, and his limbs were overtired. Around he heard now the cries and groans of the wounded and the dying, smelled the blood and shit and vomit permeating the riverbank. Howland Reed, one of Ned's captains, emerged from the water, his sword trailing behind him, his arm dripping with blood. Jaime stopped and turned in his direction.

"Lannister," Reed acknowledged him, "You're still alive."

"Yes. Do you need help?" Reed shook his head, more men were coming from the river, drenched in water and worse things, all of them northerners. The would take care of Reed, then. "Ned?"

"Keep going."

Jaime did, and he finally found the place where Robert had fought. There, on the ground, his helmet removed so everyone could see his pale blond hair matted with blood and his closed eyes, was Rhaegar Targaryen. The chest plate of his armour was caved in where he must have received a mighty blow. Robert was big and burly, and that hammer of his was very powerful to have done something like this.

He looked around, there were at least two dead bodies wearing the white of the Kingsguard, and Jaime checked but saw none of them was Arthur Dayne. He had a moment to be glad of that, even when their parting hadn't been the most amicable Jaime still admired him, then kept on moving until he found Ned Stark and Jon Arryn helping a badly wounded Robert back to camp. 

…

They rode two days later, Jaime, Ned and a thousand of their best men following Tywin's army to King's Landing. 

"I don't trust Lannisters," Robert had said when he had awoken the night following the battle, uncaring that Jaime was there and he had just married one. "You go, Ned, keep Tywin from betraying us to Aerys."

Jaime would have said something but Robert's injuries were more grievous than they had imagined, and he lay there with glazed eyes thanks to the milk of the poppy and a big gaping wound in his abdomen courtesy of Rhaegar's sword. The maester had tried to be optimistic, but there was a smell of rot and shit clinging to Robert that Jaime recognized. So did Ned, if the worried look on his face was any indication. 

"Robert--"

"No, go. I haven't killed that bastard to give the throne to Tywin."

"I'm coming with," Jaime had said, he had given orders to his captains to follow Arryn's command, who was going to organize parties giving chase to the enemy soldiers, then had chosen men in his company to accompany him and they agreed they would depart at dawn. 

He had gone to sleep that night hoping for some more rest, the previous night he had gone back to his tent and requested a bath to be drawn up for him. He had submerged himself in scalding water and scrubbed until his skin felt raw and he could barely feel his fingers anymore. Then he had put on clean clothes and fallen, face first, on his cot. He had slept, deep and dreamless, until well past dawn the following morning. Once he was awake again, he had headed to Robert's Pavillion, where they had waited for the maester to tend to him and let them in.

Now they were riding in silence, Ned's concern for his friend almost palpable. Jaime wasn't in a talkative mood either, he had not managed enough sleep, dreams of being back in the middle of the battle, the sounds and smells surrounding him, and the rider charging with his horse while Jaime was watching Robert fight, except in his dream he was never fast enough to move and he was trampled by the horse. Only it wasn't just one, it was his father's entire cavalry and Jaime ended buried under a pile of other corpses, their blood dripping on his face and opened mouth, the smell and taste of blood making him retch. He had woken up from that dream and thought for a moment he was still there, on the battlefield, then reality had reasserted itself and he'd had to rush out of his bedroll and out of the tent to throw up. 

If anyone had seen him in that less than dignified moment, nobody had said anything. The previous night had been a celebration of sorts among the survivors, the tally of the dead had been around thousand of his men, approximately the same in the other camps. He was already being hailed as a brave commander, losing few men in his first campaign, riding in front of them instead of staying behind as many other noblemen did. 

He wasn't sure if it was brave or foolhardy, but Jaime knew he was going to be dreaming about that day for many nights to come.

"She was the mystery knight," Ned said on the third night when they made camp. It was just him and Jaime by the campfire after a quick dinner of bread and dried meats and cheese. Jaime's head snapped up at that, he had been contemplating the fire, used to long silences from Ned. "Lyanna, at Harrenhal. Everyone thought it was you, but I knew it was my sister, she's too headstrong and has always liked to play with swords. My father allowed it because women in the north are fierce, we even have some bannerwomen from Bear Island."

Jaime didn't know why Ned was telling him this, but he wasn't going to interrupt. He had appreciated the silence of the first day after a troubled night, but after that it had grated on him, his attempts to start a conversation were met by Ned's broodiness. Jaime had held back on one occasion to ride with his men, who were chatting animatedly. They had been rehashing the battle, though, and their words had brought back to the surface everything he was trying to forget. They were, most of them, veterans from previous battles and weren't plagued by Jaime's nightmares.

He had gone back to Ned Stark and his broody silence after that. 

"She hated the idea that she was going to marry Robert, she knew about his love of drinking and whoring and all the bastards he has already sired, she already knew he would not prove faithful to her." Jaime had never met Lyanna and he already liked her. "Then Rhaegar gave her that crown."

"You don't think she was kidnapped," Jaime said, slowly, seeing how the words fit. 

"No, I think she went with him willingly." Ned looked up from the fire, his eyes sad. He appeared exhausted beyond what their travels warranted. "I don't think she knew the consequences were going to be this dire, but I think she wanted to go with him. The irony is that in doing so, Rhaegar became everything she had hated in Robert." He stood up from the fire. "Maybe I just want to believe that because then she might still be alive."

He went back to his tent to sleep and that left Jaime alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help but think about his own sister, now married to Robert Baratheon and soon to be widowed. Jaime didn't think Robert was going to survive his wounds, neither did Ned though they had not spoken about it. 

It left the question of who was going to take the throne open, but that was something his father and Jon Arryn could argue.

He thought about his betrothed, back in Tarth learning how to use a sword because her father believed in her as Rickard Stark had done. She wasn't going to be getting any crowns though. He was sure that once they removed Aerys from the throne, his father was going to break the betrothal, Jaime wasn't convinced he wanted that. 

He had always believed he would never love anyone but Cersei, he had certainly felt no desire looking at scantily clad women in the camps, even when they had pressed themselves against Jaime and tried to reach for him, he had always felt more uncomfortable than aroused. He had only ever felt aroused by Cersei, but now the thought of his sister didn't get his cock hard anymore. He still loved her, he would always love her in some way, but now there was also anger and resentment there. 

If he didn't feel anything for any woman, why not keep his betrothal to Lady Brienne? She was barely ten, they were not going to get married for a long time. Jaime could have his adventures once this war was finished, could travel and participate in tourneys and do as he had always wanted to do. He could even visit Tarth as he had promised his brother and Lord Selwyn, spar against Brienne as he had promised her. He liked her courage and her spirit, maybe they never fell in love, but he was sure they could be friends. He remembered Cat saying that love could grow after marriage if the foundation was strong enough. 

They had a strong enough foundation, and even if it never grew into that all-consuming flame he had felt for Cersei, they would love and respect each other. That should be more than many people had.

He retired to his tent thinking about Tarth, and for the first night after the battle, his dreams weren't filled with blood and screams. 

…

They found the old man looking dazed as they crossed the Dragon's gate. 

He was richly dressed, though there was dirt on his face and his robes were covered in blood and filth and things Jaime couldn't identify. He was old and wizened, a fresh cut dripping on his face, hands curled into claws. He walked straight into the path of Jaime's horse, and Jaime had to pull tight on the reins to prevent crashing against him. The old man turned and looked at Jaime and cringed at the sight of him in full Lannister armour.

He should have gone around the man; they were in a hurry, but something was odd about him and the way he was dressed, and he was muttering and looking wildly around. 

"Dragonpit, I have to get to the Dragonpit," the man mumbled, almost inaudible. Jaime exchanged a look with Ned, who looked as bewildered at the man's appearance as he was. 

Jaime dismounted and grabbed the man's arms. "Have you been attacked?"

No sooner he had asked he felt foolish. He had obviously been assaulted, and it wasn't hard to guess who had carried out the deed.

King's Landing was under attack, everywhere they looked seemed to be a group of Lannister men pillaging or fighting or worse. Jaime didn't need to see the pinched expression on Ned's face to know what he thought about his father's men sacking the city. His father was supposed to take the throne, not destroy the city, but Tywin wasn't known for his restraint or his care for the innocent.

They had only been two days behind his father, and they were moving with a much smaller contingent, he had expected to arrive if not at the same time at least close enough his father wouldn't have had a chance to do much damage, but it looked like they were late. 

Ahead of them a group of men in red and gold were dragging some whores out of a brothel, they were screaming and crying but the men only laughed harder, their blood up. Jaime approached them and kicked the one closest off the woman he was trying to rape, then unsheathed his sword pointed it at one of his companion's face. "I am Jaime Lannister, the son of Lord Tywin and your commander," he said in his most imperious voice, the one he had learned from Tywin himself, daring the men to attack him. Jaime turned to his captains, who had stopped right behind him. "I will not tolerate this behaviour in my ranks."

Some of them looked mutinous, but he didn't care. They were soldiers, not beasts, if they wanted a fuck to celebrate a victory, they should pay for it. 

"I'll ride for the Red Keep, my father must be there," Jaime said when his captains had taken control of the soldiers. "We'll stop this madness."

"Rossart is in the Red Keep," the old man said, his lips stretching on a grotesque smile. Jaime had almost forgotten he was there. "He'll burn it. I have to get to the Dragonpit. It will all burn."

Rossart. That name felt familiar, he had heard it before. But where? 

"We'll burn it all," the old man repeated fervently, making Jaime shiver.

He had read it in a raven, he realized, one his father had received. _Rossart_ , Aerys's pet pyromancer had been elevated to Hand of the King. He remembered his father's disgust when he had read that raven, how his lips had curled saying the name. 

"Aerys has finally sunk into insanity, making that man his hand. He is only worth as much as the wildfire he makes."

We'll burn it all, the man had just said with a cruel smile on his face. Rossart is in the Red Keep.

Jaime turned to Ned, his stomach clenching into knots, when the ground under his feet shook, first a soft tremor and then a big concussive wave that threw him to the ground. He looked around bewildered, heard a noise like a stampede of the biggest cavalry growing in pitch and with it screams and shouts. He looked at Ned, who was staring in the distance now, his face slack and his mouth gaping open, saw his grey eyes huge on his face shining green, greener than his own. Jaime turned his head in the direction everyone was staring at now, the same stark disbelief on their expressions. 

The old man began to cackle excitedly, " _So green_."

_The Red Keep_. There was nothing where the Red Keep had been a few seconds before but a pillar of green fire. He looked around, shaking his head and when he turned back he hoped the image had changed, but it was still the same. Jaime picked himself up from the ground and started walking in the direction of the green fire, ignoring the calls of his name and the horse standing two feet away from him. He kept looking at the green fire, thinking how beautiful it was and how deadly. How many people had been in the Red Keep? Hundreds? Thousands? Tywin must have been there already. He walked, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, all the noise around him disappearing in the white noise filling his mind.

Wildfire, his mind repeated, my father. Wildfire. My father. 

Someone grabbed his arm to stop him and Jaime unsheathed his sword and slashed at them by reflex, his sword hit metal and he looked at the shocked eyes of Ned Stark. "Jaime, stop!"

"My father's there." He was surprised there were tears blurring his eyes, he blinked rapidly to clear them but instead of disappearing they fell down his cheeks and choked his voice. " _My father was there._ "

…


	9. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was researching for this whole part I realized that the Tower of Joy scene happens after the King's Landing scene in canon, which makes my previous fic, The Right Question so fucking wrong I laughed for a while. that's what I get for not researching properly, but if I had that fic would not exist, so maybe is a good thing I didn't.
> 
> I want to thank everyone commenting and leaving kudos, I'm literally blown away by the response, especially of this last chapter.

There were jars of wildfire as far as Jaime could see. 

He walked around the wide chamber, the green glow of the wildfire illuminating the place better than any torch would have done. This was the third cache they had seen, and according to the old man, Garigus he'd said his name was, there were at least another three caches of the stuff under the city. 

How long had the pyromancers been stockpiling this right under the noses of everyone in court? He had no idea, but this couldn't have happened in a day. Not even in a year. 

Had this been going on even when his father was hand?

He swallowed dryly, forcibly moving his thoughts away from Tywin. He had been doing that since the moment the Red Keep had exploded, the wildfire probably killing everyone inside immediately. It was something of a comfort that the green flames burned so fiercely and hot when in such quantity, death was immediate, the people inside the Keep would not have felt anything if the Seven were merciful. 

His father would not have felt anything. 

They had learned the truth from Garigus easily. The old mas was only too eager to start talking once Ned had pried Jaime off him, his hands around the frail neck. Jaime had not known what he was doing or where he was going when Ned had stopped him. Then Garigus had laughed happily. "See how they burn," he had said with that same glee on his face and Jaime had just been on top of him trying to choke the life out of him in an instant.

"Jaime, he said he had somewhere to be," Ned had said, holding tightly onto him. Jaime had considered grabbing his sword and running Ned through. He was better with a sword, they had proven it several times. He could have his sword, the one his father had made for him, thrust inside of Ned Stark's gut in under a second. Then he could kill Garigus. "Jaime, listen to me. If there is more wildfire, more people could die."

Maybe not strangle the old man, he didn't think he wanted to touch him again with his bare hands, he rubbed them against his breeches. Maybe he could just cut his head off. 

" _Jaime_ ," Ned had hissed urgently, lowering his voice so none of the soldiers surrounding them could hear him. "I know what you're feeling now, I know you want revenge. I need you to come back and act as a commander. There are thousands of your men here, and they need your orders."

Jaime had swallowed and scrunched his eyes shut. In the distance he could still hear the fire burning and the screams of people, no more than fifteen minutes had passed since the explosion. When Jaime had opened his eyes the tears had stopped. 

"You will tell us everything," he had said to the old man on the ground. " _Everything_."

Garigus had, he'd told them about the caches they had been stockpiling for years and how there was a network of tunnels for them to move. They had left the tunnels connecting the caches free of wildfire so they could move from one place to another. Rossart was the one who had got the order from Aerys. Burn them all. He had found Garigus who was to give the order to Bellis, the only other pyromancer who knew of the caches. However, when he had stepped outside of the Red Keep to go to the Alchemist's Guild, he had been attacked by Lannister men who had seen his rich attire and wanted to strip him of his gold. Rossart, he suspected by the fact that no more explosions had followed, had perished in the first explosion. 

"He likes to watch the fire too close," Garigus had said with that same unhinged expression on his face.

"Lord Lannister," one of the soldiers who had come with him said, Jaime kept looking around. "Lord Lannister."

"Jaime," Ned said, and he snapped back to the present.

He was Lord Lannister now. "Get some men you trust and head to the Alchemist's Guild. Find this Bellis person and bring him to me. Get the head of the guild to come as well, peacefully, we need to know whether this stuff can be destroyed."

He didn't think so, but it made him really nervous having all that around. He could too easily imagine what would happen if the rest of the wildfire were to blow up. 

The soldier nodded and left, leaving Jaime and Ned alone with it, the sickly green glow covering everything. 

"What now?" Jaime said, looking at Ned and hoping he had the answers they needed. The Red Keep was completely destroyed, along with Aerys's council and many Lords and Ladies from the court. His father and his most trusted captains had been there as well, Jaime needed to take over as Lord Lannister. He needed to write immediately to uncle Kevan, there was no way he could do this on his own. 

"I don't know," Ned said, looking as lost as Jaime felt. "We have no king and no throne to claim. The Red Keep is a smoking ruin and Robert is in no condition to claim the throne, if he yet lives." He didn't look like a young man of twenty summers, his shoulders hunched and his face grim. He looked like an old man weighted with responsibility. Exactly how Jaime felt. "I shouldn't even be the Lord of Winterfell, it was supposed to be Brandon," his voice broke on his brother's name, the grief still too present. "I still want to find my sister more than anything else."

"We'll do that, then," Jaime said, completely sincere. He wanted out of King's Landing, couldn't stay here with the shocked faces of the people around him and an army wanting him to give orders he didn't know to give yet, wanting him to be his father. He was not Tywin and could never be. "We'll camp outside the gates and send ravens to Jon Arryn and my uncle Kevan." And Lord Selwyn. Jaime wanted Lord Selwyn there as well. He hadn't known the man for long, and most of their relationship had been by letter, but he wanted Selwyn Tarth in King's Landing now his father was gone. "We claim the throne in Robert's name, by right of conquest."

Ned shook his head. "Robert will not survive the travel to King's Landing, if he yet lives. You know that."

Jaime did, Ned was right. "It doesn't matter, someone has to claim it. It can be you for all I care, but the war was almost done. If we leave the throne empty it will just begin again."

Ned nodded. "Let's go out, I can't stand this place anymore. We need to post guards on all of the tunnels entries. Only people we trust."

Once the place was secured Jaime took command of the Lannister army his father had brought with him, at least five hundred men had died in the explosion, including Gregor Clegane, who Jaime didn't think was a great loss, and some of his cronies. The entire Targaryen family had been wiped, Elia Martell and Rhaegar's children had been in the Keep, hostages to ensure Dorne's cooperation. Such a waste of lives.

They set his Pavillion as the command tent and his soldiers brought the pyromancers as he had ordered; two for the stockade and one to help them deal with the problem in their hands. By the time they had finished, Jaime felt like each of his limbs weighed a ton and the inside of his eyelids was covered in sand. And he still had two ravens to send. He wrote the one to his uncle first, requesting his presence in King's Landing as fast as he could. He hadn't wanted to inform him of his brother's death by raven, but considering the circumstances, Jaime thought it was better if he told him instead of letting him find out by rumour or once he arrived. 

Then he wrote the other raven. He had not written to Lord Selwyn in several moons, since the moment his father had entered the war, but now he needed counsel. He was too young and inexperienced for the responsibilities thrust upon him, and though he loved his uncle, he was too much like Tywin.

"Lord Selwyn,

I fear these words will be the darkest yet. A tragedy has befallen King's Landing, the Red Keep has burned and many good men and women with it. We have no king or council or people who know what they're doing. There aren't many people I trust in these dark times, but I trust you, and I need your help. Please come as fast as you can.

Your friend, 

Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Paramount of the Westerlands."

…

They waited in the camp outside of King's Landing for over a sennight until everyone arrived. The first one was Lord Selwyn, the ship from Tarth taking barely two days to dock into the port. He was escorted by one of Jaime's men to his tent, where Jaime and Ned were discussing with the head of the Alchemist's Guild how to dispose of the wildfire if destroying it wasn't possible without an explosion. 

King's Landing had had enough green fire to last them a lifetime. 

"Lord Lannister." Jaime looked around expecting to see Tywin standing, severe and forbidding, when people did that. It happened to Ned still, he had confided in Jaime one of the nights, would probably happen to them both for some time. "The Evenstar is here to see you." 

Lord Selwyn came in, as big and solid as Jaime remembered him, and immediately approached Jaime. He thought for a moment Selwyn was about to enfold him in a hug, the kind he had seen him give Brienne, and didn't know whether he wanted that or not. He was likely to start crying again if he did, and didn't think his dignity would survive that. "My condolences, Lord Lannister," Selwyn said, stopping at a respectable distance. "I came as fast as I could." 

He didn't embrace Jaime but when he clasped his shoulder the way he had done that terrible day in court, Jaime breathed deeply, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. 

"I thank you, Lord Selwyn," Jaime said sincerely, he had not expected him to drop everything to come to his aid, but that was what Selwyn did. "Allow me to introduce you to Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

"Lord Selwyn," Ned said with a nod, looking between the two of them. Jaime had told him briefly about their circumstances when he suggested calling him to King's Landing. "I'm afraid this situation is bigger than just us, and we still have a war to finish and my sister to find."

"I'll help however I can."

Jaime thanked him again and gave orders to his captains to defer to the Evenstar, who had immediately taken to the task of restoring order to King's Landing. There was much to do, though the people in King's Landing were slowly reverting back to normal, or as normal as they could with an army camped around the gates and a still smoking crater where their king and court had been. 

Most of the lives lost had been nobles and soldiers, along the servants working and residing in the Keep; the people in the city bounced back pretty quickly, as long as the granaries were full and the port kept getting fish in, the smallfolk had food and trade, and they gave wide berth to the old Red Keep. Lord Selwyn had proven adept at managing the minutiae of administration in King's Landing, the soldiers deferring to him when it was a problem issued by inhabitants. The problem with the wildfire was still far from resolved, Yodirn, the head of the Alchemist Guild insisted the wildfire could only be extinguished with sand the way they had in their guildhall, but in the quantities they had it, they would need an entire mountain.

"We should just drop it into the crater of the Red Keep and then cover it with sand and stone," Jaime said disgustedly on the third day of looking at maps and coming up with no good plan for it. They kept a rotating guard on the caches, but they were loath to bring more people into it. It was too dangerous and even the most honest army had a few bad apples in it. "Or get everyone out and blow up the entire city."

It was still the best idea they had had three days later when Jon Arryn's host arrived, shortly followed by Uncle Kevan with yet more Lannister soldiers. One quick look at Arryn's face, at the downturn of his mouth and the redness in his eyes told everything they needed to know. 

Robert Baratheon was dead, they had no king once again.

Ned stiffened by Jaime's side and hung his head, his shoulders tense. He left with Arryn while Jaime stayed to introduce his uncle and Selwyn, his own grief for his father bubbling up to the surface at the sight of uncle Kevan, who looked like he had aged a decade in the past few moons since Jaime had seen him.

"Your brother has asked me to tell you to please be careful," Kevan said, gripping Jaime's arm tightly, his voice soft. "He's in no way ready to become Lord Lannister." Jaime smiled in spite of himself, then left them to retire to his tent for a moment. 

In the morning, Jaime and Ned departed. They had agreed to wait until their arrival before heading south. 

"I need to find Lyanna," Ned had said when Jon Arryn had asked why they couldn't stay. "She's my sister and I need to know whether she's still alive."

"She's been gone for over a year," Jon Arryn had said. 

"Yes. And I need to find her."

And that was it, they had chosen a small company of people they trusted and left the city in the hands of capable people. Most of the fighting was done, though the Tyrell army still surrounded Storm's End as if Mace Tyrell hadn't realized yet the futility of the gesture. They took a reluctant detour to break the siege, then chased the rumours that Rhaegar had taken refuge with his guard and Lyanna on the northern corner of Dorne. 

The Tower of Joy was nothing but a tall structure in the middle of nowhere, dark and imposing but not joyful at all. It looked to Jaime like the towers where princesses were imprisoned in fairytales, judging by the presence of three members of Aerys' Kingsguard, this wasn't too far off the truth. 

Jaime looked at them, Ser Arthur standing last between the tower and them, and felt nothing but weariness. This was the man he had admired the most, had he been guarding Aerys while he ordered the caches of wildfire? While he planned the murder of an entire city? Jaime dismounted and unsheathed his sword in the same gesture, his eyes fixed on Arthur. Gerold Hightower tried to block his path but Ethen Glover blocked the swing of his sword with his own, engaging him in combat. William Dustin and Tollen Westerford faced Oswell Whent, though Jaime didn't even look in their direction. 

He knew Ned was behind him, he also knew he was the only one of their group who could fight here. He had beaten everyone in their company in combat on the way down, they would surely die if faced with Arthur Dayne wielding Dawn. Jaime wasn't sure he would survive either, but at least he had a chance.

"Let us pass, I want to see my sister," Ned said, his voice both a command and a plea. 

"You know I can't do that, the prince ordered it."

"The prince is dead and so is the king," Ned said, taking Ice out of its scabbard. A futile gesture, he wasn't going to fight. "The war is over."

"I was charged with this duty, I will carry it out," Arthur said, not moving an inch.

Jaime put himself between Ned and Arthur. "Go to the tower, get your sister," he said to Ned and when Arthur moved to stop him Jaime blocked the swing of his sword. Ned ran using the opening Jaime had given him, Arthur made to follow but Jaime was there again getting in his way.

"Ser Jaime, you don't want to do this." Arthur said tightly, letting go of his longsword to unsheathe Dawn which was strapped to his back. He was taking Jaime seriously from the beginning.

" _Lord Jaime,"_ he corrected, his voice harsh enough to sound like Tywin's. "Your king blew up the Red Keep with my father inside, among thousands of people. I am Lord Lannister now." Arthur sagged as if Jaime had delivered a mortal blow, but didn't put his sword away. "He failed, his intent had been to blow up the entire city, it was just luck that prevented it. Did you know he planned to do that?"

Arthur shook his head. "No." His grip on Dawn was tight enough his knuckles were white when he attacked again. 

Jaime felt the hits jarring his arms and pushing him back, the strength in the blows like nothing he had felt before. He had fought against Arthur, Jaime remembered that day in the Red Keep, they had crossed swords and it had been exhilarating. Jaime had not been good enough then, but he had practised since that day, had fought in a war, and yet he still found himself struggling to keep the wicked edge of Dawn away from him. 

"The war is over, Ser Arthur," Jaime repeated Ned's words, " _stand down_."

"I can't."

Jaime closed his mouth and decided to save his breath, redoubling his efforts to get past Arthur's formidable defence. Around him, he heard the clash of swords and the grunts and cries of the other men fighting, but he didn't have the focus to spare for them. He grunted when the next hit from Dawn almost sent him to his knees, the pain in his shoulders and arms making him groan. Jaime took a step back to catch his breath, Arthur pressed his advantage keeping Jaime on the defensive. He couldn't think about how Ser Arthur Dayne was undefeated when he wielded Dawn; Jaime was the best swordsman in their group and he was barely holding on, anyone else would already be dead, and so would be Ned. He kept blocking and trying to push forward, hoping for an opening in Arthur's defence. When he saw it, he almost went for it but remembered how their last fight had ended, this time Arthur wasn't going to ask him to yield. Jaime feinted and went for the opposite side, going to Arthur's unprotected side and trying to find a gap in his armour. He felt the bite of steel in his leg at the same time he heard Arthur's grunt, his own sword drawing blood from his arm. They stared at each other silently for an instant before they attacked again, Jaime grit his teeth against the pain in his leg, his movements slowing down. It wasn't a critical hit but it was deep, blood dripping down his leg. Arthur was also bleeding, but he didn't appear to have noticed, and his hits were still as strong and painful as before. 

He was almost driven to his knees by a series of powerful blows when Ned came out of the tower. 

"She's dead," Ned said emerging from the tower, his voice trembling. " _You let my sister die in there._ "

Arthur froze mid-swing, his head snapping to where Ned was coming. Jaime took the opening and disarmed him, Dawn clattering to the ground. Around them all sounds of battle had already stopped, Jaime turned and saw Ned walking in their direction, tear tracks on his face. Jaime had expected him to have his sword ready, claim justice in the only way left to him, but he had Ice strapped to his back again and was carrying something a lot more precious in his hands.

Jaime looked between Arthur, who was now hanging his head in shame, and Ned almost by their side. "Is that Rhaegar's bastard?" someone asked, Jaime turned to see Howland Reed and Martyn Cassel approaching. They were battered and bleeding, Reed once again trailing a bleeding arm behind. At their backs, their white cloaks stained red, the remaining Kingsguard had lost their fights, taking with them the rest of their companions. 

"No," Arthur said, looking up. He looked weary and sad, diminished somehow once he realized he was the last member of the Kingsguard standing. "They married in the Citadel, Rhaegar convinced the Archmaester to annul his marriage to Elia and married Lyanna there, we were witnesses to it."

"She went with you willingly," Ned said, not a question. "Lyanna. She wasn't kidnapped."

"Yes, she did. I'm ashamed to say I've done things for my king that bear not repeating, but that was Aerys. Rhaegar never asked us to dishonour ourselves." He looked sad and old beyond his years, his love for the late prince obvious in his voice. "They loved each other. I couldn't leave my position here, even when I knew I should." He looked at them resignedly. "I was ordered to stay here. If the Red Keep is no more, he's now the legitimate heir to the throne."

…

The sight of King's Landing was one Jaime had never thought he'd be grateful for, especially with the sea of tents just outside the gates and the crater where the Red Keep had been. He was glad to be back, though, the past few days ride had left him so exhausted he was ready to sleep for an entire day. 

They had all lost people, good people, that should not have died. They all had their injuries tended to and buried their fallen companions, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional cry of baby Aemon in Ned's arms. Ned didn't look like he knew what to do with a baby, had gone back to the tower to get the nurse and midwife who had tried to assist Lyanna.

Arthur had not spoken at all since he made his pronouncement. He had let Dawn on the ground and buried his white brothers at a short distance from where Reed and Cassel were doing the same with their friends. 

"I'm sorry about your sister," Jaime said, there had been already too much grief, he had hoped to find her alive.

"She needed not have died," his voice quietly furious. "This wasn't war, this was childbirth. Rhaegar just left her locked there without help. She needn't die." He looked at the tiny bundle in his arms. "But he's not to blame. I do blame Ser Arthur, though, he'll be tried once we get back to King's Landing."

"He was following his king's orders." He looked at where Arthur was, his white cloak stained and ripped, his entire posture the picture of defeat. "He will follow yours, and his."

"Mine?" Ned's eyes snapped up to Jaime's. "You can't be serious. I can't do this, I have to go back to Winterfell, there should always be a Stark in Winterfell."

"You still have a brother, have you not? That babe is too young to be king, who do you trust as Regent? He's your kin."

Ned didn't respond for a minute, just staring at the babe. "You know Cat has already given me a son? My firstborn is in Winterfell with my wife and I haven't met him yet." He looked up again, his face set. " You're right, I will stay with him and I need people I can trust. I'll offer the position of Hand of the King to Jon Arryn but I will need a full council. Will you take one seat? You just said it yourself, there aren't many people left I trust."

Jaime had somehow expected this. He nodded. "Keep Ser Arthur, you are going to need someone who knows what he's doing to form a new Kingsguard, and we are too green to take on too many things ourselves. You might not agree with him, but he's loyal and there is no better swordsman. He just lost his king, he will protect Aemon with his life. It's his last chance for honour."

Ned agreed, reluctantly. They already had too much to do and they weren't even back yet.

It fell to Jaime to speak with Arthur during the long ride back. Jaime slowed down his horse to match his pace; he had not spoken to anyone in the past three days since they left the Tower of Joy, had barely eaten anything either just sitting on the fringes of their group. Mourning his brothers more than likely.

"Is it going to be the headsman or the noose?" he asked with a side glance at Jaime after a long silence. "At least it won't be fire."

"Would you have stopped him, if you had known what Aerys intended to do, would you have stopped him?" Jaime asked instead. It was one thing to not judge your king when he was making fun of a girl for sport, but to have had the chance to prevent a massacre and just stand there. He needed to know. 

"Would you?" Ser Arthur replied, he looked really curious about the answer. "At the cost of your honour, would you go against your vows?"

"Which ones? I swore to protect the innocent first."

There was a shadow of a smile on Arthur's face when he nodded. "I did the right thing knighting you. At least I'll die knowing that."

Jaime huffed. "You're not dying. You're getting another chance to protect your king. A better one, I hope."

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Brienne is back with a lil time skip :)


	10. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep being surprised by the response to this fic, thanks so much to everyone commenting and leaving kudos.

Brienne leaned over the railing of the ship to watch King's Landing as it approached. 

It had been over three years since she sailed from King's Landing and the city had changed so much in the intervening time she couldn't believe it. She remembered the first time she had seen it, the excitement when she had glimpsed the red stone of the Keep high above the city, the majestic structure with its towers and spires and the red walls that gave its name. Everything that had happened later had soured her visit, but that first image of the city had been branded in her memory. 

Now there weren't big red walls or tall red spires. There was a new castle, built over the ruins of the previous one, made with white marble and topped with red peaks. The towers and spires not so tall as before nor as grandiose, though there was a beauty to their form Brienne liked. It didn't look menacing or imposing, but it looked elegant. At least the finished parts of it. Over the battlements of the new keep, the White Keep people were beginning to call it, the Targaryen banner flew along with the Grey Direwolf of the Starks. 

The court had just been reopened, the habitable parts of the new keep had been finished in the past couple of moons according to her father's letters, the noble houses from all over the Kingdoms were awaiting invitations to come and be formally introduced to King Aemon, not that the king cared for it, he had just passed his first nameday and apart from grabbing everything within reach, especially Jaime's golden curls her father had said, he ignored everything around him.

It was thanks to that Brienne had finally been allowed to leave Tarth and come stay with her father, like she had been pleading with him for many moons. Her father had been adamant, not while they were still rebuilding. He was living off a tent, same as most of the council, and they had only moved in two moons ago when the royal apartments and the tower of the council had been finished. 

"You wouldn't want to be here anyway, my child. A military camp is no place for a lady, even one learning to use a sword, I'm surrounded by soldiers all day long and we have none of the comforts you are used to, the rebuild is slow going thanks to some things leftover by Aerys, and we still have much to do. Jaime is likewise busy all the time and is keeping Tyrion away from King's Landing until things are more stable. I do miss you, my child, and wish things had been different. Now tell me about things in Tarth and how your training is progressing for Jaime has been asking about it."

She was very excited about seeing her father again, she had missed him terribly for the past year, and as much as he had tried to write frequently, she knew the council had been too busy with the rebuild in King's Landing and the last movements of the war. She would have wanted to hear more from Jaime as well, but now that her father was in court he had stopped writing frequently. She had received no more than two letters from him in the past year, both filled with pleasantries and no information at all. 

Things in Tarth had been quiet, though she had also kept busy with frequent letters from Tyrion, who was as impatient as Brienne to be allowed to travel to King's Landing.

"At least you are not trapped in a castle with The Stranger herself," Tyrion had written in one of his most ornery letters, making her laugh. He had that ability, to always make her laugh with his wit and good humour. "I swear I have seen flowers shrivelling up and dying at the sight of my sister's face after Uncle Kevan told her she couldn't go to the court yet. I have learned to keep well away from her, and I understand the new keep will be big enough I need not see her face at all, otherwise I'll hide under your skirts. I think you're tall enough I would fit comfortably there."

"I wear breeches." She had sent on the return letter and laughed imagining his face when he read it.

She had to admit that of all the things she was most excited to finally meet his friend face to face. They had been exchanging letters for a couple of years already, a tentative offering of friendship at the beginning which had flourished beyond what either of them could have imagined. She wondered sometimes if she wouldn't be happier if the betrothal had been to Tyrion and not Jaime, if that wouldn't have prevented the cruelty of people that one such as she got to marry the Golden Lion. 

"We would be the Gods' perfect fools," Tyrion had said in his reply. "You twice as tall as I will ever be and both of us ugly as sin. We wouldn't even need to wear motley to our wedding, my attempts to cloak you would be laughable enough. No, Jaime is the husband you want, not only he is the taller of the two he's also more skilled with a sword. I am smarter, though, don't think he took all the virtues the Lannister had to offer. Our sweet sister is the nice one." 

That had made Brienne laugh until she had tears in her eyes, remembering how _nice_ Cersei had been to her. 

She had gotten to know more about Jaime from his brother, who continuously volunteered information about him. It was clear that Tyrion loved him as much as he hated their sister, who he confessed had never had a kind word for him. 

"I think the first thing I heard her call me was Imp," he said in one of his earlier letters after Cersei had returned to Casterly Rock. He had written to Brienne often those days, claiming it was better to keep out of the way of his father and sister. "Jaime was always kind to me, though he never stopped Cersei. At least not then. Whatever happened in King's Landing, they haven't spoken since she arrived and she hasn't insulted me in his presence. She knows he won't allow it anymore, the scales of Jaime's love have tipped away from her."

She had written to both Jaime and Tyrion as soon as she had heard about their father, trying to express her condolences. She remembered how much it had hurt to lose Galladon. Jaime had replied a moon later with a hurried note of thanks, but it was Tyrion's reply that chilled her. "Would you believe me a monster if I don't cry for my father? He never held me or kissed my brow. He never loved me and blamed me for the death of my mother. If it didn't raise questions, he would have drowned me at birth. Only Jaime ever loved me, I'm glad he's the lord now." Brienne didn't understand them, at least her father had always loved her, what it would be not to love your own child? She didn't think the monster was Tyrion. "I hope he marries Cersei to a Northerner or a Dornish man so I don't have to see her again, though he won't."

She had never confided in Tyrion what Cersei had done to her, the memory still made chest burn with shame and anger. As much as she was looking forward to seeing Tyrion, she dreaded Cersei's presence in the court. 

She forgot all about Cersei the moment her ship docked. She was still leaning over the railing, Septa Kelrey directing the servants to gather their belongings when they disembarked and moved them to the Keep. 

"Lady Brienne, please make sure you don't leave anything behind," she said, but Brienne wasn't paying attention. She ran down the plank as soon as it was affixed and barreled towards her father. Her father looked as big and solid as always, though there were some care lines on his face now. But he was smiling at her, his eyes twinkling. 

Brienne embraced him, noting how her head reached his chin now and how he had to strain to lift her off her feet the way he had always liked. 

"You have grown, my child," her father said, beaming at her. "And not just taller." He pushed her back a step so he could look her over. Brienne was wearing breeches and a tunic, as she got used to in Tarth for her training. Her father said nothing about it.

"I think I'll communicate just by letters, my neck will hurt less," a new voice said, and even without looking Brienne already knew who it was. She looked to the boy standing next to her father, she had not noticed him before too focused on her father. It wasn't difficult to know who he was, not when he barely reached her father's mid-thigh and was wearing the crimson and gold of Lannisters. He had described himself once in a letter as being made of oddly matched parts, something Brienne had felt could describe her as well, his head was too big for his body, his hair the beautiful gold of Jaime's but shot with black strands, the same as his eyes, one jewel green and one black. 

" _Tyrion_ ," she said with a wide smile. She hesitated for a moment, it was too forward of her though she felt like she had known him for ages. Tyrion took a step forward, then stopped and looked up, frustration painted on his face. She forgot all propriety and dropped to one knee, giving him a quick hug that left her face flaming. 

"Now I'm jealous of my brother," Jaime said and Brienne froze. "No embrace for your betrothed, Lady Brienne?"

Brienne stood up as if shocked and turned to her father's other side. She had forgotten, all these years in Tarth, how beautiful he was. The image of the Warrior she saw in the Sept. Jaime had grown as well, still a couple of inches taller than Brienne but she was barely one and ten, she was going to be taller than him. He was also wearing his house colours, his golden hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. Brienne's face was so hot she wouldn't have been surprised if it exploded. She dropped her eyes immediately, her heart hammering in her chest. "Lord Jaime."

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Lady Brienne." Jaime turned her hand in his instead of releasing it, and pressed his fingers against the callouses that had formed on her hands from wielding her sword. "You'll have to show me the results of your training, even if it's not in Evenfall's courtyard." 

_He remembered._ Jaime remembered a throwaway line on a letter from a few years ago. She could think of nothing else in the way to the Keep, her hand still tingling where he had touched her, her heart hammering in her chest.

…

Life in the Keep soon became a bit of a routine. 

Brienne broke her fast with her father every morning in the quarters they had in the keep, it was the only time she would see him some days, when the council meetings and other obligations kept him busy until late. They had quarters in one of the new towers with the rest of the members of the council, a big shared room where her father kept a small writing desk that Brienne used for her lessons with Septa Kelrey now that she had nobody to write letters to. She had a small room for herself, with her father just on the other side of the living room and Septa Kelrey in the tiny room next to hers. 

Jaime and Tyrion had quarters just on the floor above them, and though they didn't share lessons, she spent as much time as she could with Tyrion. Jaime wasn't around much either, as busy as her father was, though she had heard him sometimes at night talking with her father in the living room. She had not realized how lonely she was after Galladon's death, and later when her father had departed from Tarth, until she wasn't anymore, the low rumble of their voices nearby lulling her to sleep.

After breaking her fast she rushed to the courtyard for training, the first morning she went to the yard she had expected to see many knights and squires already working there, and for the master at arms to send her back as it had happened before. What she found instead was Jaime going at it fiercely with one of the White Brothers, their forms impeccable, their swings hard and true. She had never seen fighting like that, and was immediately conscious of the difference in skill between them and her, even if she had been training for the past three years. They were using naked steel but the yard was full of people just going about their own business, barely paying attention to the deadly dance of two masters. The only person staring with the same awe on his face that Brienne felt was Tyrion, he was leaning forward as much as he could on the balustrade, his eyes wide as saucers, jaw slack.

She went to his side.

"My brother told me he regularly trained with the Sword of the Morning," Brienne did a double-take. She had seen the man before, she realized now, behind Aerys that day in court. He looked much older than the few years that had passed, but that didn't seem to matter with steel in his hand. "I had not imagined it would look like this." There was genuine wonder in his voice and also a thread of envy. She knew he loved knights stories as much as she did and would have loved to become one. _There are no more dwarf knights than there are women knights,_ he had written when Brienne had asked why didn't he train then.

Brienne looked at them, the movement of their powerful arms and the footwork something she wasn't close to imitating and saw the moment Jaime missed a block. "This is your brother's loss."

A moment later Jaime's sword dropped to the ground and he cursed colourfully. "I thought I had you," Jaime said, bending over to pick up his sword. He didn't appear upset at his loss, though.

"You think too highly of yourself, Lord Lannister," the other man, Arthur Dayne apparently, answered but the words were teasing, no bite to them and there was a fond look on his face. "I will see you in the council later, I'm on duty with the king."

Jaime turned to them then, his smile widening. "My lady, brother mine, have you come to see me lose? Or are you here for your own training?"

Brienne found herself as tongue-tied as she had the previous day by the dock and chided herself for it. She had not been this shy with him when they met, she didn't need to be so conscious of him now. She had grown taller but not prettier, unlike him who looked to be even more handsome than before, and they were still betrothed for some reason. She had half expected him to break their betrothal once Aerys was dead, but he hadn't mentioned anything during this past year and neither had her father. "I want to train," she finally said, her voice still barely louder than a whisper. 

Tyrion sent her a look but didn't say anything. Jaime gestured to one of the masters who immediately left what they were doing to approach him. 

"Lord Lannister," he said, solicitous.

"I have a council meeting shortly, I will leave them in your capable hands, Ser Thomas" Jaime said before leaving them there. "Teach them well."

"Of course, my lord."

Brienne had almost expected the master to ignore them once Jaime was gone, but whether he had convinced or bribed him, the master took them both seriously and began his lessons. It was different than her usual training with Ser Goodwin, Brienne enjoyed the instruction and the exercise, and if she had to block the murmurs and snickers coming from around the yard, it wasn't as if she had not done so before, even in Tarth were people were gentler. 

They made an odd pair, the giantess and the dwarf, and the cruelty of people in court wasn't so different just because the king was. They were less obvious, nobody wanted to antagonize Lord Lannister or the Evenstar, but it was still there in the snickers and comments they could never quite escape. It was better now she had Tyrion, who reminded her to walk with her spine straight and her chin up, the same as he always did, but with Cersei lording over the court, there was no way to completely avoid them. 

It wasn't everyone, of course. There were people in the court who cared nothing for Cersei and the ladies and lords that followed her, attracted to her beauty like moths to a flame. They usually avoided her, the keep was big enough as Tyrion had said, and neither of them was inclined to mingle with the courtiers, though sometimes it just wasn't possible.

Brienne was on her own taking a stroll around the gardens when she heard Cersei’s voice, the musical lilt on it that had always struck Brienne as fake. She looked around, searching for an escape, but short of turning the way she had come there was no way for her to pass them unnoticed. She considered it for a moment, but knew some of the people in the group had already spotted her by the muffled chuckles she could hear, and turning around would be cowardly, one more insult for them to fling at her. She was wearing breeches and a tunic, as she always did; she didn’t look or feel good in dresses, not since that day in the Red Keep, and neither her father not her betrothed cared about what she wore. Of course it had been the subject of many comments around the court, but usually, she didn’t care. 

She did as Tyrion always told her to, _straight spine and chin up and pay them no mind. They want a reaction, don’t give them one. There is nothing Cersei hates more than being ignored._

“Are those breeches? Does she think she has a cock?” One of the men said, his voice mocking.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, I have seen her swing a sword. If you didn’t tell me it’s a woman I wouldn’t know.”

“Don’t be cruel my dear, the poor thing can’t help her unfortunate looks,” Cersei said, her voice dripping with malice disguised as sympathy. Brienne felt her face flushing, her stomach churning, but kept walking with her eyes fixed firmly on her path. Ahead of her, her auburn hair a beacon, was Catelyn Stark with her sister Lysa, a displeased turn to her mouth. "Besides, you don't want to see her in a dress."

“Don't be upset my dear, some people can’t help their unfortunate character,” Catelyn said when Brienne was close to her, loud enough that the group turned to look at her. Brienne risked a look at Cersei and saw the naked hatred on her face when she looked at Catelyn Stark. “Lady Brienne, have you been already introduced to my son and my nephew?” she said, sweetly, ignoring them to smile at Brienne. She was making a statement, one that couldn’t escape any of the people there. Cersei had her band of followers, those who wanted her favour and the ladies in awe of her beauty and courtly manner, but it was Catelyn who had the real power of the two of them, the one married to the king regent and good-sister to the hand of the king. “I know you haven’t been long in the court, it has been remiss of Jaime and Selwyn not to introduce you to us.”

“He’s been very busy, Lady Stark,” Brienne said finding her voice after a too-long heartbeat. “Same as my father.”

"Cat, please, since we're going to be good friends." She linked her arm with Brienne's and smiled up at her. She was shorter than Brienne already and so pretty, not with the delicate cold beauty of Cersei, but warm and sturdy and motherly. Brienne imagined her mother, who she couldn’t remember at all, would have smiled like that. “Gods, I despise that woman,” she said once they were some distance away. “Makes me wonder how Jaime is her twin, they are nothing like the other.”

“They look very alike,” Lysa said in a bored tone. She had the same auburn hair as her sister and similar enough features to know they were related, but nothing of her warmth. She just appeared distant, as if nothing around her mattered. 

“If you only look at their faces. And even then, they don’t look so similar to me.” Brienne was glad she wasn’t the only person who believed that. She had only seen them together years ago, and even then she had thought Jaime was warm and soft where Cersei was hard and cold. Now they appeared to avoid each other, Cersei stayed in the Maiden Vault, though being a widow she didn’t have to. The rift between the twins was still evident, same as Cersei's hatred for her, but now Brienne was older and she had friends, she was not defenceless against her anymore. “Come, Lady Brienne, Robb must be waking up from his nap now. I’m sure he’ll like you.”

Brienne smiled and went with her.

…

They stared at each other in the yard, the noise of the people around them fading from Brienne’s consciousness. 

“Are you ready for a dance, my lady?” Jaime asked, he had a tourney sword in his hand, same as Brienne did, and he was smiling at her.

Brienne nodded, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She had been ready for years, training under the guidance of Ser Goodwin first and then Ser Thomas. She knew what the result of the fight was going to be even before it started, she had seen him practising enough times, on his own or against Ser Arthur or against the regent, to know she wasn’t at his level. Not even close. But she wanted to clash swords with him, wanted to feel that intense focus of his on her. 

They started slowly, testing, just the touch of their swords together. Brienne held back, Ser Goodwin had always told her to wait for her enemy to make the first move, the impatient ones would always reveal themselves and it was a flaw she could exploit. Jaime smiled at her before he attacked, his hits precise if not overly strong. He was mindful of their difference in experience and strength, nevermind that Brienne was tall enough to almost look him in the eye, he was controlling his force. She pursed her lips and retaliated with the strongest blows she could deliver, making him take a step back when the first one was parried. 

Jaime smiled and sidestepped the next blow, and the following one, always one step ahead of Brienne and so very fast. 

"Are you aware that you grimace when you lunge, my lady?" he asked after he easily turned her blade away for the third time. Brienne flushed. She had been told that before. "You also overextend your reach and put too much force in your hits, you will spend your energy too fast that way."

He disarmed her in the next move and Brienne hung her head, embarrassed to have been defeated so easily. Both Ser Goodwin and Ser Thomas had told her how good she was, but they must have meant she was good for a woman. 

"You are already very good," Jaime said and her head snapped up to glare at him.

"No, I'm not," she protested, forgetting to be shy in her indignation. "Don't lie to me."

"Brienne," he said, picking up her sword and offering it to her, hilt first. Brienne grabbed it almost by instinct. "You are very good, you're also very young. I would have not lasted that long against Ser Arthur at your age." He took a step back and took position again. "Now, if you want to get good enough to disarm me, we'll go again."

She did. 

She made sure to be early enough to catch him in the yard at least every few days, Jaime never turned her away though some days the fight didn't last more than a few minutes before his duties called him away. She had not noticed before, but he looked very tired. All of the members of the council did, including her father.

"I can't wait for the keep to be finished and all the rest Aerys’s mess disposed of," he said one day when one of the servants collected him right after the first bout. “We’ll have to continue on the morrow, my lady. We haven’t been able to finish a spar in a fortnight.”

Jaime followed the servant with an air of resignation, Brienne sighed disappointed but just moved to one of the dummies, she was already in the yard, she might as well get some practice before going back to attend her other lessons. A golden glint caught her eye when she was about to leave, Jaime’s sword. She retrieved it from where he had dropped it in exchange for the tourney sword in the morning and unsheathed it, testing the balance in her hand. It really was an ostentatious sword, like most things made for Lord Lannister by his father, with the gold gilding of the blade and the gold pommel with inlaid rubies. It was beautiful, though, and the craftsmanship was exquisite. She tested the edge, golden or not it was a sharp sword, perfectly balanced and maintained. 

She put it back in its scabbard and took it with her to give back to Jaime later. 

One day, she hoped, she would have a sword just like this.

...


	11. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got big, but I didn't want to change POV until I finished, so here we go :)

"I give us one year before we have another revolt in our hands." 

That had been Jaime's best estimation once they had returned from Dorne, the heir of the throne in Ned Stark's arms but no Iron Throne to seat him in. Nobody had questioned them when they had returned with a child with clear Stark looks and the Sword of the Morning in tow. Nobody doubted the word of Ser Arthur Dayne when he declared Rhaegar and Lyana married in the eyes of the Seven and Aemon the legitimate heir of the throne. 

They had it by right of conquest and by right of blood now, though they needed to find where Aerys' other children had fled to. 

They hadn't had a revolt in one year, or two, and they were coming on their third year and the people in King's Landing were thriving. There had been too much war and death, but the smallfolk were a lot more resilient anyone gave them credit for and now that the Keep was finally finished, the white marble walls and red-topped towers standing elegant where the red spires stood before, and with the last of Aerys' wildfire destroyed everyone was ready for a celebration and to move on.

"A tournament," Ned said flatly when Tyrion suggested the idea during one of their regular dinners in the king's solar, the children running around with one of the servants running after them. 

For the first year of Aemon's reign there had been little time or reason for celebration, not only they had to rebuild the keep but the fighting around the Stormlands and Riverlands had left many dead soldiers and entire villages destroyed. The retreating armies had not been kind on their march, pillaging and destroying fields and lives as they went, some of them turning into bandits and causing even more chaos. 

They had been too young and inexperienced and had to learn quick with the help of Lord Selwyn and Kevan, who had proved invaluable. The also had a respite when Ser Barristan Selmy, who had survived the Trident, had returned to bend the knee to the new king. The effect in Ser Arthur had been visible, seeing one of his white brothers still alive had given him back some of his previous life, and when he had sworn himself again to the new king his voice had sounded strong and hopeful for the first time since the Tower of Joy. 

He had found Jaime some time later to give him the answer to the question he had asked during the trip. "I would have tried. If I had known, I would have tried to stop him even if it meant death or dishonour. "

It had been after that they had started to meet in the yard occasionally to train, not that they had lots of time for it. They had all been too tired during that year; a too young king with a too young council and too many losses from the war. It had been a miracle they found time for themselves at all.

Jaime regretted that he had not written to his brother or Lady Brienne more than a handful of letters and that most of what he had to say couldn't be consigned to paper. 

"They understand," Selwyn had told him one night when Jaime complained. They were supping together in the command tent with Ned and Jon Arryn, going over the latest plans for the disposal of the wildfire. The stuff had proven to be a pain to transport and destroy, especially because of the need for secrecy. "I have not written to my daughter as much as I would like either."

They had all rejoiced when the keep had been reopened and their families could come to King's Landing, the majority of the armies had been sent back home and Kevan had returned to Casterly Rock. "We need a Warden of the West, and if you intend to stay in the council then my place is the Rock looking after our family."

Tyrion and Cersei had arrived shortly after the opening of the court, Jaime had been happy to see them both, especially Tyrion. His relationship with Cersei remained strained, though she had smiled at him when she arrived and taken one of the rooms in their quarters. One of the few letters Jaime had sent to the Rock had been to reassure Cersei he wasn't going to marry her off, like their father would have done, the moment she was past her mourning.

He had found her in his room that first night, wearing nothing but a thin shift which she let drop as soon as the door was closed. She was still as beautiful as Jaime remembered, her toned and golden body had grown even more womanly since the last time he'd seen her, her long legs and thin waist and perfectly shaped breasts would have made him instantly hard a few years before. 

He had felt nothing for her then, nothing beyond weariness. 

"We can finally be together, sweet brother. I have missed you so much," she had said with one of the gentle smiles he remembered from before, when they were growing up together. He had felt a pang of longing for the people they had been then. "There is no king to force you to marry that cow anymore, nor I will be sold off for power with you as the Lord of the Rock. We can have what we've always wanted."

Jaime had picked up the shift from the floor and given it to her. He had offered that before, running away so they could be together. She had only wanted it when they could also have the Rock. "I'm sorry, Cersei, I will marry Lady Brienne. You are free to choose your own husband." 

She had frozen, the gentleness falling from her face to leave only terrifying blankness. She had put on her shift in silence and left the room, though Jaime somehow knew that wasn't the end of it. Cersei had always been too proud and spiteful to leave things like that. The next morning she had moved to the Maiden Vault, Tyrion's knowing face all the commentary on it. Jaime had been saddened, but mostly by the fact that Cersei had not changed at all in all those years. 

Lady Brienne had arrived a fortnight later, much to Tyrion's and Selwyn's delight. She had grown taller and a bit more confident in herself, though she still blushed when Jaime teased her. She hadn't become comely in the last years, though her eyes were still the bluest and most incredible eyes Jaime had seen, and her skill with a sword kept growing and impressing him. She wasn't close to beating him, but one day she would, something Jaime was looking forward to. They trained together occasionally, though she spent most of her time either with Tyrion or with Cat, who had grown very fond of her, the training yard was just for the two of them. 

She came alive with a blade in her hands, the shyness falling away with each step and slide, each parry and lunge. Brienne would smile then, uncaring of her crooked teeth or her broad shoulders and back or the sniggers and taunts from the peanut gallery. Those had been stopped soon enough, same as Cat's friendship had done in the court, the moment Ser Arthur had attended one of her spars with Jaime and had declared her "The most promising swordsman of all the ones in the yard, including Lord Jaime," and offered to take Jaime's place for the next bout, something almost unheard of.

She had stumbled, gaping like a fish, and Jaime had disarmed her easily in her flustered state much to everyone's amusement. But Arthur wasn't wrong, she was really good and if she practised she might be as good as Jaime one day. 

Looking back, those days had been exhausting but Jaime had enjoyed them. He had never realized how isolated he had been by his father's beliefs in the Lannister superiority and his sister's hold over him. He had not known he needed friends outside his family until Aerys had forced him into the betrothal and Selwyn had become one, until the war had shoved him and Ned Stark together and he had realized he enjoyed his company, dour as he was. He had met the man that Arthur Dayne was, not the legend he had admired, and had found he was flawed and human, and much better for that.

The work getting the Kingdoms back to some stability had been gruelling but satisfying, and now the hardest part was over, they deserved a celebration.

"I think it will be the perfect way to celebrate the King's nameday," Jaime said, and all eyes turned to him. It was still three moons away, plenty of time to organize everything. He had not known how much he missed tourneys until his brother had spoken, but the truth was there hadn't been time to even miss them. "It will be a good opportunity to extend a hand of friendship to Dorne and Highgarden, get them back to our side, fill the empty seat in the council." 

They had tracked Aerys' children to Dorne, their mother had died in childbirth and only Viserys and Daenerys were left. They were being protected, and ready to be used, by Doran Martell. It was better to curtail that potential threat now before it became a real one.

"You will be participating, of course," Ned said with a knowing look. 

"So will I," Brienne said, all eyes turning to stare at her. Her face was red but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. Jaime had been around her age when he won his first tournament, he understood the feeling. "If your Grace allows women to participate."

"Lyanna would never forgive me if I say no," was Ned's response and Brienne's smile turned incandescent.

…

The tournament grounds outside the walls of King's Landing were the liveliest Jaime had seen in the past few years. Knights and Lords from all over the realm had come to participate, even some colourful sellswords from Essos had arrived with the latest ships, attracted by the purse of coin, if not the honour, awaiting the winner.

There was an air of festivity and cheer that had been missing from the city for years, long before the war and the senseless deaths that had taken place there. Around the grounds themselves a market had sprouted, merchants offering their wares in colourful stalls, cooks and tavern wenches keeping people watered and fed. 

Jaime felt the excitement in his veins in a way he hadn't in a long time, he was ten and three the last time he participated in a tourney, and he had won the melee. He remembered how he had believed himself invincible then, how he had wished at the time that Cersei was there to see his triumph and to receive the crown of Queen of Love and Beauty. He didn't remember who he had gifted the crown to, it had not mattered to him then because it wasn't who he wanted. 

Were he to win today he had no doubt who he wanted to gift the crown to, much as she would probably throw it to his head rather than put it on hers. Brienne had not grown any prettier in the two years in court, though she had grown both taller and broader. She could now look at him in the eye, and she now made him work for his victories in the yard. 

Jaime's squire helped him put on his armour, the one he had commissioned for this tournament; it was done in the crimson and golden of Lannister with the lions of his house adorning the chestplate and pauldrons. His destrier was ready by the lists and when he got there he was surprised to see Lady Brienne waiting for him by the horse. She wasn't jousting, though she would participate in the melee of the last day, she was wearing one of her very rare dresses in deference of the occasion. It was blue and it had been tailored carefully to her on Jaime's orders; Brienne might not have a feminine figure but a good seamstress could make her a gown that didn't look ridiculous on her, and she deserved to have beautiful gowns if she wanted to wear them. 

She still looked uncomfortable and self-conscious. "That colour looks good on you, my lady, it brings out your eyes." It was the truth, the blue of the dress made her eyes even more astonishing. 

"Thank you, Lord Jaime. It was very kind of you to gift it to me." It was probably the only reason she was wearing it now instead of her usual breeches and tunic. 

" _Jaime, my name is Jaime_ ," he reminded her, not for the first time nor the last, he was sure. She still spent more time with Tyrion than him, except for their regular spars. It felt like she was becoming shyer around him, not looking him in the eye most of the time and blushing frequently if Jaime teased her. Selwyn had laughed when Jaime complained about it, puzzled that the more they knew each other the shier she became around him. "Have you come to give me a favour, my lady?" 

"I have come to ask for one," she said, speaking to her hands which were twisting by her lap. "When you win, please don't give me the crown."

_When you win_ , he felt a surge of warmth for her, for her faith in his abilities. He hadn't jousted in a long time, his chances of winning were no better than many other knights, and yet Brienne had said it as if was a foregone conclusion. The rest of her request registered then. "Brienne--"

"I know that you have to, as we're still betrothed and it would be offensive if you don't," she said hurriedly, still not looking at him. “I’m asking you not to."

"Brienne--"

" _They will laugh_ ," she said, and finally looked up into his eyes. "I know you think they won't dare, but they will. They always do."

There was a plea in her eyes, one Jaime couldn't deny. She was right, of course, there were too many people who had come from all over the Kingdoms and beyond, people not of the court who were, by now, used to them and who didn't know anything about Brienne. The same people who had pointed at Tyrion when they walked through the market first thing in the morning, they would look at her and see nothing but her odd features and think the gesture mocking. 

"Please.”

“Of course, my lady,” he conceded. He had not been able to resist her pleading blue eyes when she was eight and they had just met and he still wasn’t. She still had the most extraordinary and expressive eyes. “But I will have a favour from you to take into the lists, if you want to give me one.”

Brienne hesitated before she took a handkerchief from one of the folds of her dress. It was blue with the sun and moons from house Tarth embroidered in it. It wasn’t expertly done, far from it, some of the stitches were too big and some were too tight but there had been obvious care in them, in choosing the golden thread employed in the trim and the delicate motifs.

She all but shoved it into his hands, Jaime smiled and carefully placed it inside his sleeve. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. He knew how much it cost her, Selwyn had spoken at length about her frustration with all womanly arts, which she considered herself too coarse for. 

She was about to say something else when Jaime’s squire approached with his lance. “Lord Jaime, it’s starting.”

“I have to go back to my seat. Good luck, _Jaime_.” 

He mounted with the help of his squire, a wide grin on his face. She had used just his first name.

The good humour carried him through the first joust, he unseated his opponent, a pink-haired sellsword wearing mismatched armour, in one smooth move. The man laughed from the ground, obviously not bothered by his poor performance, and Jaime laughed with him, their mirth echoed all over the stands were smallfolk and nobility alike had gathered for the tournament. He turned his horse around and located the royal stand; Ned and Catelyn were in the middle seats with Aemon and Robb, who had been inseparable since the time they had begun to crawl, placed between the two of them. Cat had baby Sansa asleep in her arms, she was barely two moons and already had a full head of Tully auburn hair and the same eyes as her mother. Selwyn was sitting with Brienne and Tyrion on Ned’s right and Jon and Lysa were on Cat’s left. 

Cersei was seated further back, surrounded by other ladies, all of them preening for the contestants and offering their favours. Some of them might even come out of the tournament with a new betrothal. His sister had chosen no new husband in the past years, they had not spoken since that first night when Jaime had finally rejected her. That first year he had expected some retaliation, he knew his sister wasn’t the type to just let an insult like that stand, he still remembered the slap that had sealed the door on their relationship. She hadn’t, though. Cersei had been her usual spiteful and cruel self to Tyrion and Brienne in court until Cat had put a stop to it before he had to, but that had been all. 

Now she was there, looking at Brienne with barely restrained hatred and Jaime knew why she had made that request, remembered Cersei leading her by the hand with the awful red dress and the badly arranged hair. He went back to his position to wait for his second joust but made sure to pass by the royal seats and to wave his right arm, where Brienne’s favour was peeking out from his sleeve. Her freckled face lit up with a blush and Jaime could see his brother laughing and ribbing at her.

He won the second and third jousts easily, a lithe Dornish rider wearing the golden sun of Martell and a full helmet also advancing through the ranks, a beautiful white stallion carrying him with perfect grace, his balance and use of the lance one Jaime couldn’t help but admire. He wanted to know who that was, he had seen the princes Doran and Oberyn arriving in court, Aerys' children in tow. Their presence had been a shock for most people, who hated Viserys on sight for his resemblance to his father, but little Daenerys appeared to be well on her way to win Aemon and Robb's hearts.

Oberyn was in the lists for the melee and according to his reputation, he was one of the participants he would have to look out for. They were both in the stands now, Oberyn following the rider with hunger in his eyes.

He was surprised, the same as most of the people, when the rider was unseated by a northerner, a Mormont if Jaime wasn't mistaken. Prince Oberyn almost jumped out of his seat when he fell to the ground, stunned and unmoving for a long second. The rider stood then, removing his helmet to reveal his face. There was a collective exclamation when the face of Ellaria Sand, Oberyn's paramour, was revealed. Jaime risked a look at the stands, where Brienne was leaning forward almost as much as Oberyn, her eyes wide at seeing another woman competing in the lists. 

It was becoming clear that Jaime would face Mormont in the last joust, he couldn’t wait. He had not felt this alive in years, it was a different kind of energy that had carried him through the war and those battles, and it was different from the training spars he indulged frequently against Arthur and Ned and Brienne. He had always felt the most alive with a sword in his hand, and going against a foe he didn’t know but who had proven skilled was the best.

“My lady,” he called to Brienne as he advanced to his position for the last bout. If he won, it would be just him and Mormont. “Wish me luck.”

There were some titters when the people saw who he was addressing but a glare from him and her father were enough to quiet them, the whispers spreading among those who didn’t know of their relationship. 

“Good luck, Jaime,” she said, barely audible in the racket of the tournament. 

Jaime faced against the last rider, Jorah Mormont, if he recalled correctly. The Lord of Bear Island. He had fought with Ned during the rebellion and fought well. 

This was going to be fun.

Jaime lowered the visor of his helmet and noticed, as Jorah was doing the same, the crimson favour tied to his wrist. He did a double-take, it could be he was mistaken and the favour had been given to him by some other lady, but it was a shade of red no other house used, and somehow Jaime knew he had got that from Cersei. He had no chance to think about it more, they were charging against each other with their lances up. Jaime felt the charge in his blood, his focus narrowed until he could only see the point of Jorah's lance and hear no sound except for the pounding of his blood in his temples. They clashed and their lances broke, with an exhale, Jaime let go of his lance and picked up the new one his squire was offering. They charged again, and they broke their lances again, and a third, and fourth time. He could feel his hand tightening harder on the next one, and the next one until he could barely feel his hand, the jarring impact of each lance crashing against Jorah's shield reverberating up his arm. 

He was stubborn enough he wasn't going to lose against him.

There was a feeling of wonder in the air when they were given their eighth lance, it was rare for a joust to last this long. Something unheard of for many years and everyone seemed to be holding their breaths. Somewhere back Jaime knew dragons would be exchanging hands, the bets higher the longer they took to resolve the match. He was tired, and he was sure Jorah was tired as well, his arm feeling the strain of the prolonged match. They clashed again, and they broke another lance, the shouts and groans of the spectators breaking through Jaime's focus. 

He picked up the ninth lance, took a deep breath and held on to it with his entire being. He looked at his favour, the blue handkerchief Brienne had reluctantly given him, then looked up and charged. He saw the point of Jorah's lance approach, aimed his but knew even then they were going to break it. Jaime lowered the point of his lance a few inches and moved it slightly to the right, changing also his own centre of gravity on the horse barely a beat before they clashed. Jorah's lance struck his shield shattering on impact as it had happened before. Jaime's hit true, and for an instant, he thought it would break again. He held his breath and when he turned around Jorah Mormont had fallen from his mount, a loud roar picking up all around the field. 

He felt the cheer of his name everywhere, his hair standing on end. Ned and Cat were beaming at him and his brother was on his feet, clapping and cheering the loudest. Jaime dismounted and went to Jorah Mormont, helping him stand before he turned to the king. 

"Lord Jaime," King Aemon said, his childish voice carrying in the sudden silence. "You are the winner." He handed Jaime the crown under the eyes of most of King's Landing. 

There was an instant where everyone waited for his decision. He looked at Brienne, tempted to give her the crown the way he had wanted since the beginning. She might not be a beauty like Cersei, or Cat, or any of the bland and boring ladies of the court, but Jaime liked her. He liked her spirit, even when she was terribly shy sometimes. It faded when she had a sword in her hand, in the yard she was fierce and stubborn and so good. He liked the way she was friends with Tyrion, not because he was Jaime's brother or because he was a Lannister, but because he was Tyrion and they laughed together. He liked her eyes, which were still the most beautiful he had seen; it had been a long time since Jaime had thought her ugly. 

He knew people wondered why he hadn't broken his betrothal, but he didn't want to. He quite liked his bride. She was still too young, but the longer they knew each other the more certain Jaime was they would have a good marriage. He saw how Ned and Cat had grown closer and closer since that day in Riverrun, how they were building a family and falling in love with each other. 

He wanted that for himself. 

He turned to Brienne with the crown in his hand and saw the fear in her eyes, the silent plea. He smiled gently at her, reassuring her. "My lady, I have won thanks to you, and I will honour your request." She sagged minutely in her seat, lips picking up on the corners. "The Queen of Love and Beauty is Lady Sansa Stark, may she break all the hearts when she learns how to walk. Her head is still too small for the crown, though." He deposited the crown at Cat's feet with a flourish, earning an eye roll and a fond smile from Ned. Robb rushed to pick it up and plopped it on his own head, a ripple of laughter breaking around the stands when the king stood and tried to take it from him, exchanging it for his own crown.

He looked at Brienne, his heart swelling at the gratitude and love in her eyes and her smile. 

…

There were about a hundred participants in the melee, not the biggest Jaime had been in but close enough. 

The tension and excitement were already felt around the arena, all seats filled with people animatedly talking and shouting. From down on the ground, Jaime saw the people as a blur and heard their voices as background noise, focused exclusively on the people around him. There was no other way, the first few minutes of a melee were always chaotic and nothing but a rush of bloodlust in his veins. Most of the mediocre fighters would be weeded out immediately, leaving the ones with some skill or a lot of luck. 

Jaime took the time to assess the ones he knew when they filed in. 

Arthur was one of the most instantly recognizable knights in the melee, his white armour and cloak making him stand out like a sore thumb, Dawn strapped on his back. It was for show, Arthur only used that sword in life or death situations, definitely not for tourneys where they would all use blunted weapons to avoid a bloodbath. People expected a spectacle, though, and Dawn was famous enough that just seeing it would provide that. 

Unless a large group focused on them and got very lucky, they would be standing by the end of the melee, Jaime was positive they were the most likely fighters to remain by the end. He couldn't wait, he had fought with Arthur enough times and had even got to disarm him a few times in the recent moons. Both of them knew he had finally caught up in skill with the greatest swordsman in the realm.

There was also Jorah Mormont, who had proven so good at jousting and Jaime remembered him being also quite handy with a sword. Oberyn Martell was there with his spear, which gave him a range that Jaime didn't want to encounter him until there was enough space cleared, but was eager to pit himself against. There were many Essosi sellswords, their cobbled together armour and brightly coloured hair making them easy to spot. Most of them had lasted little in the joust, those who had participated, but they were an unknown number. Sellswords usually had to have the skill, if not the manners, to stay alive in their world.

There were other houses; Freys, hoping to regain their honour after their absence in the war, Tyrell roses were mingling among the court in the stands, though there were none in the lists. There was a face from Jaime's past he was very glad to see again, Addam Marbrand, and some minor Lannister from Lannisport.

Then there was Brienne. She was wearing armour, one her father had commissioned when she expressed her desire to participate in the melee, and which suited her much better than the dress Jaime had had made for her. It was a finely crafted armour in midnight blue, it had pink accents on the pauldrons and cuirass, the sun and moon of her house engraved there. She was wearing a helmet as well, though most people knew who she was, and in her hand she had a morningstar instead of a sword. A bold choice, that was for sure, but not a bad one with her reach and strength. 

They all faced the king and bowed, then there was no more time for thoughts, just to fight. The first minute passed as if in slow motion, Jaime's focus absolute in the movements of everyone around him. He faced two sellswords and a knight he had never seen before, dispatching them easily with just a few movements. Too easily, though. He was one of the best fighters in the arena, a fact that was known, most of the hopeful participants would have used the confusion and the bigger numbers to converge on him and Arthur, hoping to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. It was a tried and tested method in melee fighting, overwhelm the best fighters with numbers to give yourself a chance. 

He frowned and looked to where Arthur had been the last time, saw him standing over five enemies, a frown on his face as he looked over to Jaime. On the other side, Oberyn was equally puzzled, his few enemies already groaning on the ground. 

There was something wrong. 

Jaime looked around, hoping to spot Mormont in the same position, and many small groups scattered around. The bear was nowhere to be seen and on one side a huge group had converged on one foe, knights and sellswords alike battering at the same person. Jaime looked over to the stands, where Selwyn was on his feet, a frantic look on his face and his heart stopped for a terrified moment before it took a hammering beat in his chest. _Brienne_. 

Another sellsword attacked him then, using his distraction to his advantage. Jaime felt the bite of a sharp dagger on his side, and countered by instinct, dropping his enemy to the ground almost before the pain registered. He looked at his side, the blood dripping from a gap between the plates of his armour.

" _They're using real weapons, they've gone for Brienne_!" he shouted at Arthur, who gave a curt nod and rushed to the group. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oberyn picking up his spear and moving in the same direction as them, but he couldn't spare any attention for him. He gritted his teeth and ran towards them as well.

There were some clusters of people fighting around them, uncaring or unaware that anything strange was happening, most of them westerosi knights fighting against each other, and then one big mess of people, almost like a writhing beast. Brienne should have been easy to spot there if she was still standing, she was as tall as Jaime and she was almost as good. Jaime barreled into it pushing people away and looking frantically around, hoping to see her sturdy form standing and swinging her morningstar.

Many men were groaning on the ground when he finally saw her, she was back to back with Addam, Brienne had grabbed a sword from somewhere and they were keeping a group of Lysenni sellswords, judging by the colours of their hair, away from them. She was already hurt, and so was Addam, and they were fighting as if this was a life and death situation, not a tournament. A sellsword managed a good hit and Brienne stumbled and fell, Addam blocked the next hit aimed at her but there were too many people and they weren't looking to incapacitate, Jaime knew how it felt when the intent was to kill.

He finally located Mormont, he was approaching Brienne, his sword up even when she was on the ground, struggling to get up. Jaime had no time to waste, he blocked the sword of the man in front of him and delivered a hard kick to his torso, getting him out of the way. He was too far to get to Brienne in time, though, and Addam was engaged with other enemies. He watched, helpless, as Mormont's sword descended on Brienne and Jaime shouted.

It was blocked by Dawn, Arthur facing off against Mormont. Jaime breathed in relief and punched the next participant who got in his way. He finally made it to where Brienne was, winded and in pain on the ground, her armour dented and scratched but still mainly whole. 

He helped her stand, clasped Addam in the shoulder in thanks and half dragged her out of the arena, his jaw clenched tightly.

This had not been a random attack, and he knew who was responsible for it.

…


	12. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, one more chapter and we're done. Everything goes to plan, it will be up tomorrow, Wednesday the latest. Thanks so much to everyone sending kudos and comments, I hope the punishment for the last chapter doesn't disappoint. :)

The throne room was the quietest Brienne had ever seen it, even with the number of people inside watching the trial as if it was a new and exciting spectacle following the tournament. 

On the stand Jorah Mormont was looking down, hunched in on himself. "I was infatuated from the moment I saw her; the most beautiful woman in the world, I was lost the day I arrived at King's Landing. I courted her though I didn't think she'd give me the time of day; I'm older and widowed, and my house is not as rich or influential as hers. But she did. She would walk with me, and look at me, and smile at me. I was in love and I thought she was as well, impossible as it felt," he confessed, the same story he had told Jaime and the Kingsguard days ago, his voice carrying in the silent room. "I asked her for a favour to wear to the joust, told her I would crown her so everyone would know she was the most beautiful woman in the Kingdom. She agreed but asked, in exchange, that if I won the joust I offered the crown to Lady Brienne first." Brienne felt her heart stop in her chest, mortified. A hand gripped hers and she looked to the side to see Jaime, not looking at her but his warm hand enfolding hers. She gave it a soft squeeze in thanks, her face hot. "It was supposed to be a jest, to give it to Cersei when Lady Brienne reached for it. I thought it was a cruel jape, but she kissed my protests away and I forgot why I shouldn't. I've never understood women or their sense of humour, anyway. In the end, it didn't matter because I lost."

It wouldn't have felt like a jest to Brienne, it would have been the most humiliating moment of her life and that was what Cersei had wanted. She hadn't been able to torture Brienne in the court as much as she wanted thanks to Cat and, to a smaller measure, Lysa. The tournament had given her all the opportunity she needed.

"I thought I lost my chance with her when lost the joust, she had looked so angry. Then she came to me during the night. She told me Lady Brienne was to participate in the melee, wouldn't it be a pity if something were to happen to her there? With so many sellswords in the lists, surely someone wasn't going to walk out." He did not look up or looked at the council. He hadn't since the moment he had been brought up from the cells where he had spent the past sennight. "She's so beautiful and sweet, when she kissed me I forgot everything that wasn't her, when she embraced me and let me love her I would have promised her anything so I could do it again. I let myself be convinced to replace the tourney sword for a real one." He lifted his eyes then and stared at Brienne, a plea in them. As if she could understand that he had wanted her dead to please a woman. "By morning she promised she'd become my wife if I did it, if I won this time. I promised gold to several of the sellswords to attack Lady Brienne during the melee in case I faltered, I wanted Cersei more than anything in this world."

There was a ripple of shocked exclamations around the courtiers, next to him Cersei Lannister stood silent, beautiful and proud, defiant even in the face of the scorn and ruin she had brought on herself. She had not said anything at all, though she had asked for her brother while she was confined to the tower. 

Jaime had refused to go to her.

The trial was just a mere formality for the court to hear, though the rumours had been flying around since the day of the tournament, the little birds busy around the Keep.

"I should sentence you both to death, but that would be a kindness. You're sentenced to exile, you will be stripped of all titles and possessions and will depart from the Seven Kingdoms on the first ship. Were you to set foot here again, you will be executed," her father read the sentence, his voice ringing clear in the room. As Master of Law, it had fallen to him to give the verdict, his words carrying as much weight as the king's. "But first, you will be married before the Gods," that was the first reaction they got from Cersei, her face twisted in disgust, her green eyes blazed with hatred. "You say a Lannister always pays his debts, you whored yourself to him in exchange for my daughter's life, you will pay this one. How you will pay now all those sellswords hired, is for you to consider."

The court erupted after that, a cacophony of voices rising while Cersei and Mormont were escorted by Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. They would be taken to the Sept and married before they were handed to the Gold Cloaks and escorted to a ship bound for Essos. 

Next to Brienne, Jaime could have been carved from Tarth's marble. He had been like this, cold and remote, since the day of the melee. Brienne knew it wasn't her who had put that look on his face, not the one on Tyrion's, but she still felt it was somehow her fault.

Brienne still didn't fully understand what had happened, she could remember little of the melee; she had been so excited to be there, to be allowed to participate and fight with Jaime, and maybe even against him. From the moment the tournament had been announced officially everything had felt like a dream. Her new armour, a present from her father, and the royal announcement allowing women on the lists. She had believed she would be the only one, that it had been a concession for her thanks to her father's position and friendship with the regent. She had forgotten the regent was a northerner and it was more common there, however it hadn't been until she saw the dornish rider taking her helmet off that Brienne had really felt how momentous it was that they could participate openly.

The first days had been incredible, the people and the colours and cheer in the air. She had gone early with her father, spent some time with Tyrion in the market before they had to rush back for the joust. She had stopped when she saw Jaime getting ready for his turn, by then Brienne was used to the way her heart started beating hard against her ribcage when she saw him and how her face heated up. She hadn't become inured to his charms the more she knew him, the opposite in fact. He'd asked for a favour and worn it proudly, and then crowned baby Sansa in the most ridiculous way. 

The next day was supposed to be the same, only this time she would be down in the lists and wearing armour. Except that the moment she stepped into the arena she had a bad feeling she had been unable to shake. Nerves, she had told herself, she had only ever fought against Jaime and Ser Arthur in a few, remarkable occasions. She usually sparred against the master at arms, most of the knights in training still reluctant to clash swords with a woman, especially one who was both younger and likely to beat them. 

"Men will always feel insecure with women like you," her father had said when she complained about that. She had grown immune to jeers and sniggers in the yard, few as they were nowadays there would always be some who thought to mock her, but the pettiness of men refusing to acknowledge her still irritated her. "You have been fortunate that your betrothed not only doesn't mind but encourages it."

She had looked around and located the key fighters in the melee, Jaime and Arthur were the most dangerous of them all, Prince Oberyn and Mormont, who had jousted so well against Jaime, and one knight with a burning tree in his sigil. Marbrand, she recalled, though she didn't know him. There were too many knights and sellswords surrounding them to know everyone, and after they bowed to the king everything devolved into noise and colours and the blood rushing through her veins. Brienne had noticed immediately too many fighters surrounding her; she was one of the unknowns, of course, her height would make her stand out and she was a woman but there was no reason for that many to converge on her. She couldn't remember clearly, just the noise and the pounding beats of her heart in her temples, and the way her body moved by instinct. At some point she had grabbed a sword from somewhere on the ground, too many bodies accosting her, her morningstar not enough to fend them off. Brienne had been convinced that if she faltered even for a second, she was going to die, it shouldn't be like that in a tournament, but somehow she knew. She had received assistance from the Ashermark knight, who covered her back and kept her steady when she faltered, her arms were tiring and her throat hurt with her shouts. Then she was on the ground, panting and unable to stand, her entire chest screaming in pain, her eyes filled with tears. She saw a shadow on top of her, one that resolved into Mormont when she blinked to clear her eyes, his sword poised to strike at her, looking sharp and deadly like only true steel did. That had been no tourney sword.

The next she had known was Jaime helping her stand, she could have cried at the sight of his face and the worry in his eyes, had not even noticed the blood dripping from his wound or from hers. She had wanted to cry, disappointed and sad especially with herself that she had needed to be rescued.

"Was it because I'm a woman?" she had asked, her voice choked.

"No," Jaime had replied, curtly, his face stony once they were outside the lists. She had feared, for an instant, he was angry with her, that he had to leave the melee to rescue her but his face had softened when he had turned to look at her. "I'll get you to the maester."

She had a broken rib and countless contusions, and a nasty stab wound in one of her thighs, though they were supposed to fight with blunted weapons. She had looked at it and it had occurred to her for the first time that someone had tried to kill her. Her father had arrived barely a minute after the maester had begun to work on her, and Jaime had left them there not stopping to have his own would checked. "It's just a scratch," he had said, echoing his words from the first time he saved her life, all those years ago.

She had learned, later, that he had gone straight to order his sister to be taken back to the keep by the Kingsguard and locked in one of the towers. 

Brienne had known since they met that Cersei hated her but had never fully understood why, not until now. She stayed inside the throne room still holding onto Jaime's hand as the rest of the court filed out. Tyrion looked at them from the door but Brienne just shook her head; there was something bothering Jaime, something more than what had happened. 

"That would have been me," he said once they were alone, his eyes still fixed ahead. "The day I met you I wasn't looking for a present for Tyrion, I was on my way to a rendezvous with Cersei. She had meant for us to spend the night together for the first time, like lovers, but I never got there. The look on Mormont's face, that blind adoration, had been on my face. _I loved her like that,_ I did since I was old enough to know she existed, I never doubted her when she said we were the same person and meant to be together." He turned to Brienne, his eyes glassy. Her stomach turned at the implications of what he was saying, and she remembered Cersei's words from before; Jaime had come to King's Landing to be with the woman he loved. Cersei's hatred made much more sense then. "It was the Gods who put you on my path. You saved me from becoming him."

Brienne shook her head in disbelief. "You could never become him, not you. You have honour." 

Jaime smiled sadly. "Do I? Maybe I do now, but the boy who saw you in the market was close to turning his back on you so he could go to meet her."

" _He didn't, Jaime_ ," she said urgently. She hated that look in his eye, that bleakness which reminded Brienne of herself years ago, before he saved her. "You are not like that, you chose to save a stranger over her, you could never become that."

Jaime still looked doubtful but he nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead. " _Thank you_. Let's go, before Tyrion comes back looking for us."

They left the throne room together, their hands still joined.

…

Life in King's Landing didn't change much after that, though sometimes it felt as if a noxious cloud which had been hanging over the Keep had been lifted. None of Cersei's cronies, those who remained in the court, dared approach Brienne or Tyrion now.

"They've suddenly realized there was more behind her taunts than just unfunny japes," Tyrion said one day while they walked around the gardens, no laughs or titters followed them now, no half-veiled insults. "They don't want to be seen as being like her."

It was true, some of the most adventurous ones had even tried to befriend them, seeking the power of associating with them now. They had been easily dismissed by Tyrion, who had stared at them with his mismatched eyes until they had just left.

"If they found my sweet sister's japes funny, they won't like me," he said with a sharp smile. "I require all my friends to laugh with me."

"That explains why you have no friends," Brienne retorted with her most serious expression before she cracked up at his outraged face.

One of the biggest changes had been that Prince Oberyn had been invited to stay in the court, the dornish rider who had impressed Brienne so much was his paramour, Ellaria Sand, and the first time Brienne had seen them in the yard practising she had been enthralled by them. They moved together in a way that spoke of familiarity and trust, the fluidity of their bodies in motion a thing of beauty. Oberyn had been the first man, apart from Jaime and Arthur, to challenge her in the yard. 

"Lady Brienne, I was sad we couldn't face each other in the tourney," he said when he finished with Ellaria, both of them breathing heavily. "Would you do me the honour?" 

Brienne hesitated for barely a second, but curiosity won over caution and she stepped into the yard. It was fascinating, fighting someone with a style so different from hers, using a weapon she had not faced before. Oberyn didn't pull his hits either, something she knew Jaime and Arthur still did, and soon she forgot everything about the people around the yard and filtered out all the voices, completely focused on his dark eyes and his quick movements. Brienne felt that rush of excitement which had been missing since the melee, replaced by a twisting helplessness and fear she had not felt even as a child when she had been attacked. There was power and precision in her hits, though he was still better than she was. When Brienne finally yielded she was grinning widely, flushed with exertion and pleasure. 

She grabbed Oberyn's extended hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. 

"Now I'm jealous, Lady Brienne doesn't smile at me like that." An amused voice said from the side.

"You should try fighting her seriously instead of coddling her, Lord Jaime," Oberyn replied with a pointed look. "She's good enough for it."

"She is."

Brienne turned and her heart skipped a beat, Jaime was standing by the side of the yard with the Ashermark knight who had fought with Brienne in the melee, Addam Marbrand, she recalled. It was the first time she had seen him smile since before the trial the previous moon. That day, after the guards had taken Cersei away and Jaime had confessed to their relationship, they had stayed close, Jaime's hand warm against hers, Brienne's heart racing in her chest. 

He had seemed to avoid her after that, though, and Brienne had only seen him from afar, always with a troubled expression on his face. 

"Let him be," Cat had said when Brienne had mentioned it to her one afternoon. They were sitting in the garden while Robb and Aemon played hide and seek with Dany, who was beginning to lose her timidity around the other children. She had been brought to court by Doran Martell along with her brother when Ned had extended the invitation for the tournament, and she had stayed afterwards. Cat had almost adopted her in her family, some obvious mistrust on her face when she looked at her brother. Doran had returned to Dorne after refusing a place in the council in favour of his brother, and Viserys had been sent to Riverrun to be fostered and squire for Cat's brother. Since then Dany had started to come out of her shell. "It's hard to come to terms with the idea that someone you loved is capable of such monstrous acts. He'll come back."

Cat had been right, she could see it now. Jaime looked lighter and happier, his eyes again had that sparkle which had been missing lately. Brienne approached him, helplessly pulled into his orbit. "My lady, allow me to introduce you to Ser Addam Marbrand."

"Ser Addam," Brienne bowed and Addam did the same, not looking surprised at her gesture. "I want to thank you, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." It was the truth, without his help she would have been overwhelmed by sellswords during the melee. 

"I knew you were Jaime's intended, I couldn't let anything happen to you," he said gallantly. Now that he wasn't wearing armour, Brienne could appreciate he was a handsome man, maybe not as beautiful a Jaime, but he had pleasant features and proportioned body and a charming smile. They looked comfortable with each other, old friends who had been reunited.

"We used to play together when we were children in the Rock, but I had not seen him in a long time," Jaime confirmed, he offered Brienne his arm and she took it instinctively. 

Jaime smiled at her and guided them away from the yard, recounting stories from their time together as they walked around the court, Brienne's hand almost burning where she was touching him. They had not done this before, touch outside of the training yard, not until the day of the trial when he'd taken her hand.

He did touch her now; as if a dam had broken, Jaime now sought contact continuously but never in a way that could be deemed inappropriate. Jaime would offer her a hand after training, or his arm when they walked around the court, and in some memorable occasions, he'd grab her hand and squeeze it if she needed some comforting. They spent more time together now, with the peace and the end of the rebuilding the council's duties had been halved. 

"I am the Master of War, and we are at peace," he said during one of their regular suppers in her and her father's quarters. "I'm feeling very superfluous."

"Don't wish for war, Jaime," her father warned him, his look fondly exasperated." Plenty of lords left in the Kingdoms to grant it to you."

"You can always go to the Rock and take over as Lord Lannister," Tyrion said, looking up from the book he was showing her father. "Uncle Kevan might be happy to give up the position."

Jaime shook his head. "He'll have to stay there a bit longer, I'm not going back before we're married." He took Brienne's hand and squeezed it. "And we still haven't visited Tarth."

She had almost gotten used to this, though Brienne still blushed when he took her hand like that, or when he showed easy affection in front of their family and friends. Jaime had turned out to be a very tactile person once he began with the casual touches, and Brienne couldn't help but lean into them like a cat begging to be petted. 

He had also been talking more about their wedding; for the first years since the betrothal, their future nuptials had felt more like a yoke hanging over them than anything else. They had not chosen it and they had never spoken about it, Brienne had been convinced that Jaime would annul it as soon as he could, especially with Aerys and Tywin's death. 

He hadn't, and lately he spoke about it as if it was something to look forward to but made no move to bring it about.

Brienne wasn't sure what to think about that, they wouldn't marry for at least another year yet. She was short of her sixteen name day and not yet flowered and she was already taller than Jaime, a fact he enjoyed too much in her opinion.

He also enjoyed the first time she disarmed him in the yard during one of their regular spars, his face shocked for an instant before it turned into a delighted grin. 

"Again," he said, picking up his sword from the ground. "Come on, my lady, do it again."

"I always knew you enjoyed losing, Lord Jaime," Oberyn said from the side where he was watching them with Ser Arthur.

"It's the best way to learn," Jaime said, his grin not dimming at all.

"You'll become very wise soon, my lord," Brienne said, shocking herself and everyone around, their laughs ringing in the yard.

They had more people to spar against now, and also to spend time with. The friends she had wanted to have when she was little and alone on her island. Brienne regularly faced Ellaria and Oberyn and Addam, same as he did, but her favourite matches were always against Jaime. There was something there, when they faced each other in the yard, that she didn't feel even against Arthur, who was still the best swordsman of the realm. It was only Jaime who made her palms sweat and her heart trip all over itself. Brienne didn't avert her eyes constantly, though he could still make her blush, and was learning to tease him the same way he did her. 

She knew she was in love with him, had been since before she knew what that meant, would probably be her entire life. 

She also knew he wasn't in love with her, that he still saw her as a child. He took her hand and kissed her forehead and smiled at her, but she had never seen anything but fondness and affection, nothing like desire or the overwhelming love she had seen between Cat and Ned.

"I know it's greedy to want more," she said one day to Cat, the words bursting out, harsh and unlike her. She had been feeling strange all day, her mood plummeting without a reason only to soar a moment later. There was also an uncomfortable feeling in her belly, not quite pain, but some twinges she had never felt before. "It's more than any other man would give me." She remembered Septa Roelle telling her the looking glass would tell the truth, remembered Cersei comparing them in front of one. Jaime had loved Cersei, and Brienne had seen herself next to her and knew nobody who loved one would ever love the other.

"He does love you."

"The same way he loves Tyrion." She wouldn't say like a sister, not when he had loved his sister.

"Brienne," Cat has said, a strange smile on her face. "Love is a tended garden, it grows with the right care and time. He's seen you grow up, he'll see you as a woman soon enough, and his regard for you will grow as well."

"He might see me as a woman but not one he desires. I'm still the ugliest maid in Westeros," she said, it had been Cersei's preferred insult in the court when she could still get away with them, though it hadn't been repeated since her exile. It didn't make it less true, though Brienne thought she had already accepted it and was shocked to feel tears running down her face. "Why am I crying?"

" _Oh dear_ ," Cat said, her smile growing. "Have you felt odd today? Itching for something you don't know what is? Some pain in your abdomen?" Brienne nodded, and before Cat could say anything else, she knew what was coming. "It looks like you'll be a woman sooner than you thought. You'll probably bleed tonight or tomorrow. You're flowered."

She had, but nothing changed. Not that moon or the ones that followed. 

Brienne had believed Jaime would either annul their engagement now or prepare for the wedding. He did neither. She wanted to say something but didn't know how to broach the subject, her old insecurities returning almost as if Septa Roelle could speak to her again, remind her that nobody would ever want her, ugly and mannish as she was. What other reason would Jaime have for not setting their wedding date now?

"There are many reasons, Brienne," Tyrion said when she brought it up. "Have you not noticed there is some unrest? Something's happening, and the council keeps meeting twice as much as they did before."

It was the truth, of course, and if she hadn't been quietly panicking about her situation, she would have realized as well. Her father had, once again, dark circles under his eyes and she had been training lately more with Addam and Ellaria than Jaime and Oberyn. She had put all down to the same, Jaime avoiding her.

When finally the raven from the Westerlands arrived announcing the Iron Islands had rebelled, setting the Lannister fleet aflame, she went to Jaime's rooms in the tower. It was the first time in the five years she had been living there she had just knocked on his door. 

"I'm riding with you," she said in her most serious voice. She had used the same tone on her father, who had nodded and said he knew and made her promise she would be careful, for him. 

Jaime looked worried, a frown almost permanently etched on his brow since the previous day when the news had arrived. The raven from Kevan said they were already raising their banners in the Westerlands, they were just waiting for Lord Lannister to arrive and lead them. Ned had sent a raven to his brother Benjen in Winterfell asking him to do the same, he was raising the Crownlands while Cat had sent word to her uncle Brynden in the Riverlands.

They would all be marching in the morrow to quash the rebellion.

"Of course you are," he said, with a shadow of a smile. "Come, I have something for you." He disappeared inside his room, leaving her waiting for a minute. She had been there several times, always with Tyrion or her father as it wasn't proper for her to be alone with him. "I had this commissioned for you."

He handed her a sword and Brienne almost swooned. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with a golden pommel, instead of a lion like his own sword, this one had a sun and it was inlaid with sapphires, not rubies. She took it out of the scabbard, almost expecting gilded gold like his, but the blade was steel, sharp and beautifully deadly. She remembered picking up his sword once before and hoping one day she would have one just as beautiful.

"I intended it for a wedding gift but I think it will be more useful now," he admitted. 

Brienne looked at the sword in her hand and then at Jaime, who was looking back at her with an earnest expression on his face. She took a step forward, her body moving practically without leave from her brain, which was filled with static. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Jaime's, who let out a shocked exhalation, his breath hot against her mouth.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed and frozen for an instant, then Brienne turned and ran back to her rooms, the sword still clutched in her hands.

She realized, mortified, she hadn't even thanked him for it.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet_Osmanthus, you were absolutely right about the sword!


	13. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually headcanon Jaime as Demisexual, and of course this is no exception. I've gone a bit further this time and tried to imagine what it might be for a man in his twenties and that point in time (kind of) to have no desire (with a few, remarkable exceptions). I mean, being in the aro/ace spectrum is not easy nowadays, and we have information and terminology.   
> I don't agree with what he thinks of himself, but I've been there and know how insidious that nasty voice in the head can be. I'm not sure how to tag or if I need to tag that, so if anyone wants me to, please tell me.

"My lady, tonight we sup with my uncle and tomorrow we depart with the army," Jaime said once they were inside Casterly Rock's courtyard, turning to look at her with a smile.

This wasn't how he had wanted to show his home to Brienne but he had to admit it was an imposing sight to approach the white-walled castle amid a city of crimson and gold tents, thousands of soldiers in Lannister armour ready for their command.

They had made good time there; Jaime rode hard with Addam and Brienne and a small company of the Crown's own soldiers while Ned took the bulk of his army to Seagard, where they were to meet the Blackfish and the Tully army and Benjen Stark with the Northerners.

There had been raids all over the coast after Greyjoy's first attack on Lannisport, the pattern pointing clearly in that direction. The Crown's fleet had sailed under Lord Baratheon's command with the support of the Redwyne fleet from the Arbor chasing the Ironborn at sea, and after this one night, Jaime would lead his army to meet with them, Brienne riding by his side.

In her midnight blue armour, Brienne stood out even more than her stature and gender granted.

He had known she would insist on coming with them the moment he had heard of the unrest in the Westerlands and the possibility of war. Brienne had left her timidity behind and replaced it with stubbornness as she grew up, at least while she was fighting. She was strong and skilled, almost as much as Jaime, though yet unblooded. Jaime would have not wanted to expose her to the harshness of war, but Selwyn had made him see the futility of opposing her.

"We encouraged her to train as a knight, she's not going to stay here waiting for you if all of you go to war, regardless of what we say," Selwyn had told Jaime when it became clear they would be marching soon. The fact that either of them really had the power to make her stay remained unspoken. They weren't going to use it. "But don't forget she's still my child and you're not wed yet."

Jaime had been confused by the warning, but it became clear when they stopped the first night of the march.

"I think I'll pitch my tent with the soldiers," Addam said, looking at the red command tent that had been prepared for Jaime, an amused curl to his mouth which meant he was holding back laughter. "Just in case."

Jaime and Brienne stared in appalled silence at the only bed set inside, one big enough for two. They hadn't been able to look at each other for the first few hours of the ride, the kiss they had shared the night before, chaste and sweet as it had been, still at the forefront of their minds. They were both thinking about it now again, though neither mentioned it.

"I can share with Addam," Jaime finally said after too long a beat, at the same time Brienne said. 

"I'll get my own tent."

They stared at each other this time, Brienne's face that blotchy red that signified deep embarrassment and that Jaime, all these years later, still found endearing.

"Nonsense," Jaime countered. "You can't sleep among the soldiers on your own. You'll sleep in my tent."

"It is your tent. I won't force you out of it." She firmed her jaw, arms crossed over her chest, digging in for a full display of pigheadedness.

"Then we'll share it," Jaime said. Brienne's jaw dropped, eyes grew impossibly large. "We're engaged to marry, it can't be more improper than you sleeping alone in a camp full of soldiers. Even if you leave your armour on," he pressed on before she could suggest that. 

"Nobody's going to slip into my tent at night, Jaime," she protested, proving that she was still too innocent sometimes. 

She might have been taller than Jaime now and almost as good with her sword, but there was still a naivete about her that always brought him to mind the little girl who had asked him if he was the Warrior. It was one of the things that, as much as he loved it about her, made Jaime reluctant to set the marriage date. 

"I'll have another bed brought in," Jaime said, final, and Brienne had hesitatingly conceded. He could out-stubborn her when necessary.

They shared the tent every night on the way to Casterly Rock. After a long ride, they had supper with Addam and the soldiers before retiring, together, to sleep. If there had been any japes or comments made, Addam made sure they hadn't got back to them. 

The first couple of nights Brienne was stiff and red in the face, unable to hold Jaime's gaze or to say more than two words to him. She relaxed later, burrowing into the bed at night, her eyes half-closed while she talked with Jaime, laying on his own bedroll on the ground. 

"I'm going to see Casterly Rock before you see Tarth," she said one night, her voice little more than a rumble.

"You had marked places to show my brother, I remember," Jaime said, thinking about the letters he had exchanged with Selwyn what felt like during another life. 

"I didn't know about him, back then, and I had wanted to take him to the mountains," she said, biting her lip in a rare display of embarrassment. "I had wanted to impress my friend, he was the first friend I made."

"So I wasn't your friend," Jaime teased her, enjoying the way her freckles faded a bit when her face turned a ruddy red. She was easy to rile up and Jaime had always enjoyed her flustered face. "That explains why you only wanted to show me the yard."

She turned her face to the pillow, muffling her voice in an attempt to hide. "You were different. _You were my hero_."

Jaime blushed, pleasure warming him from head to toe, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He liked seeing Brienne soft and rumpled on the bed when they woke up, seeing how her eyes opened and she smiled at him. She didn't have a soldiery quick snap into consciousness, not yet, and she was always charmingly soft and slow, her hair a mess around her head. 

Like this, Jaime didn't think about her as a child anymore. 

He still wasn't sure how he thought of her, and that was the real problem, the true reason he kept delaying the marriage in spite of Selwyn's pointed questions and his brother's annoyed looks.

"She thinks you don't want to marry her because she's ugly," Tyrion had said, bluntly, a few days before they received the raven from Kevan calling them to arms. 

"That's ridiculous! I don't think she's ugly." 

"No, but you don't want to fuck her either," Tyrion had said, and Jaime had cursed his brother and the time he spent with Addam chasing serving wenches and with Oberyn going to brothels. He had much preferred it when Tyrion hadn't discovered sex and was as innocent as Brienne. "And she knows it."

" _It's not her_ ," Jaime had finally protested.

"I know. Good luck convincing her of it."

It was hard. Jaime knew he loved Brienne, she was one of his best friends, practically family. He had seen her grow up, had seen the little shy girl become this tall and imposing woman. Her eyes were still innocent and the most beautiful he had ever seen, and though he knew people still called her ugly and mannish, Jaime didn't see that. He saw her odd features but to Jaime, it was just Brienne's face; maybe her lips were too big and maybe her teeth were too crooked, she had too many freckles and arms and legs more suited for fights than for dance. She was Brienne, and he didn't find her hideous, but the scorching coil of desire he had felt for his sister was also missing. 

Jaime knew it was possible to have a marriage without passion and desire as long as there was love and respect, but he felt there was something wrong with him. 

He had not felt any stirrings of desire for any woman, not just Brienne, since Cersei. It had been over eight years since he had kissed a woman and felt his cock stir, since he had looked at one and felt that heat in his gut and that overwhelming need to be with her, to feel skin against skin and the warmth of their bodies together. He liked holding Brienne, liked taking her hand and feeling the callousness, so similar to his, on her hands. Liked talking to her, and sparring against her and spending time together. 

He wished it was enough, and for him it might be, but she deserved better. She deserved desire and passion. 

Jaime knew that wasn't normal, he had been among soldiers enough to know that, had been accosted by enough pretty courtiers that he should have felt something for one of them. He feared that Cersei had been right all along and they had been halves of a whole, meant to be together, and now he was just not enough on his own.

Sooner or later he was going to have to either marry Brienne and tell her the truth and break her heart, or let her go and break her heart anyway. 

He wasn't looking forward to any of those options. 

…

The fight wasn't as equal or as overwhelming as the last war, though the ironborn were bloodthirsty beasts who fought like demons. Jaime could almost appreciate the skill if they had been fighters, not rapists and pirates. He hated the sight of the villages they crossed which had been hit by the pirates. It was always the same, men and children gutted on the streets, houses on fire, and vacant-eyed women with torn clothes and souls, and blood on the inside of their thighs. 

The first village they had crossed like this had been the worst, seeing the incomprehension on Brienne's face at the cruelty of the men they were going to fight. Her eyes filled with tears for the women and the children, but she knew they couldn't do anything there but keep on marching and defeat Greyjoy. She had set her jaw and not said anything for the rest of the day, but Jaime knew she was thinking about it when they encountered the first group of ironborn. 

Brienne had fought like a woman possessed, and at the end of the day, she wasn't unblooded anymore. Jaime would have wanted to keep a closer eye on her during the battle, but it would be doing them both a disservice; she knew how to fight, and he had his own enemies to dispatch. That first night they had not supped with the rest of the soldiers, the men's blood was up and Brienne was feeling the effects of the first kill, the trembling in her hand she kept trying to hide from him. He had taken her back to their tent and helped her out of her armour, cleaning the blood from her face and hands carefully before he guided her to the bed. He remembered the night after his first battle and the nightmares that had followed, he was glad they were sharing a tent.

"Sleep now, I'll be here," he said, softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

Brienne held onto his hand when he tried to stand. "Stay?" she asked, softly, and Jaime lay down with her on the bed, both of them clothed and exhausted, until she fell asleep.

They didn't find any villages still being raided the following day before they met with the rest of the army, Ned waiting for them in the command tent. The news were good; the ironborn were hard and ruthless on both sea and land, but Ned had numbers on his side and they were overwhelming them. Victarion's fleet had been crushed by Stannis and Ser Barristan had taken Old Wyk. 

"We're moving to Pyke on the morrow," Ned said, they were gathered on the King's Pavillion, the grey direwolf of the Stark flying proudly next to the three-headed dragon. "Balon's people have retreated and they are making themselves strong at the castle." 

Benjen Stark, a man who was, if possible, dourer than his brother was arguing strategy with the Blackfish there, a map set on one of the tables. Jaime gave it a cursory look, too tired to cross to where they were discussing troop movements and supply lines, determining the best way to cross to Pyke with their armies. Jaime should have been paying more attention, but they had been riding hard after the last skirmishes, and he was exhausted.

He looked at Brienne, standing by his side tall and proud, a smudge of road dirt on her face and her eyes as clear and calm as ever as she listened to their strategies. Jaime felt his heart thump loudly against his chest, heat suffusing his face, and he approached her and pressed the pad of his thumb against her cheek to clean the dirt. Her skin was soft, softer than it had any right to be when they had been on the road for so many days, and so pale compared with the tan of his hands. Under his gaze, the skin pinked, and he could swear he felt the heat of it under his finger. There was no more dirt there, and yet Jaime kept his hand where it was, cradling her jaw while his thumb moved over her skin. 

Brienne turned startled eyes on Jaime and he held her gaze. Her eyes weren't so calm anymore, they were stormy and dark and still the most astonishing he had ever seen. 

" _Jaime_ ," she hissed, turning beet red. Around them the voices faltered, silence descended upon them.

He removed his hand slowly, still not sure why he'd done that, and turned to see Ned staring at him with both eyebrows up. Jaime forced himself to take a step away from Brienne.

They retired to their tent after what felt like an eternity, Jaime still feeling that same tingling when he looked at her. She was still the same person, the same Brienne as that morning and as the day before. She was still taller than him and paler, still had the same number of freckles but before he had not wondered how many there were, and whether they made patterns where he hadn't seen yet. He had not wondered if she would let him trace them with fingers and lips while he counted them.

She had the same big mouth and plush lips but he had not wondered how they would taste. He was wondering now, and he was beginning to feel that tightening in his gut that he had almost forgotten.

"Jaime, are you alright?" she asked, a tiny frown marring her features. 

"Yes," he took her hand, marvelling at how warm it was and how well it fit with his. " _Yes, I am._ "

It wasn't the first time he did, not even the hundred probably, he'd had that hand between his many times in the past years and it had always been comforting, for both of them. It shouldn't feel new and arousing, and yet it did. 

Somehow, it did.

Maybe he wasn't wrong, maybe he had just needed time because this felt right, this felt like desire. This felt like want.

He pulled on Brienne's hand until she was standing just in front of him, still with the same concerned furrow in her brow. He looked into her eyes, then down at her mouth which parted while he was looking, a soft exhalation against his face. Before he could think better of it, he leaned up and pressed his lips against hers. 

It was soft and chaste like the one they had shared before they left King's Landing, except this time nobody was running away. Brienne's lips were parted already and Jaime took the chance to dip his tongue between them, deepening the kiss. He was feeling that familiar warmth spreading down his body, and now that it was back, it was like wildfire, quick and devastating, inflaming him.

He didn't want to stop kissing her. 

Jaime took another step closer until their armours clanged together, the noise too loud in the silent tent, and moved his hand to clasp the back of her neck and hold her there. He leaned up and kissed her again, open-mouthed and wet, devouring her mouth. Brienne gasped and tensed minutely, then her eyes closed and she practically melted into him, her hands grabbing his hair, deft fingers tangling in his curls. Jaime kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her, chasing her taste with his tongue, scraping her lush lips with his teeth. She moaned, low and shocked, and shuddered in his arms.

"Jaime," she breathed against his lips, releasing his hair and placing her hands on his chest plate to push him away. 

Jaime moved a step back but leaned forward to keep his lips on hers for as long as possible. When they parted, Jaime opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them. His breathing was choppy as if they had been fighting, and his face felt warm. A few inches away Brienne was staring at him, her eyes were almost completely black and her lips were slick and red. Jaime tried to lean forward for another kiss but was stopped by her hand.

Her eyes searched his face, moving over each of his features while Jaime just stared at Brienne as if seeing her for the first time. Kissed was a good look on her, he decided, one she was going to wear frequently if he had any say.

"That's the look," she said, her voice full of wonder.

"What look?"

"Like you wa--" she cut herself off and dropped her eyes, Jaime took her distraction as a chance to kiss her again, softly and chastely because if he started again, he wasn't going to stop.

"I want you," he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world to admit. It was, now that he could, not that it was true.

"You didn't, before. You didn't kiss me back." She still didn't look at him, her face flaming.

She had run away, that day, but it was true he hadn't done anything but freeze and watch her turn around and leave with her sword still clutched in her hands. "I didn't see you, not yet." It was easier than admitting the truth. It was too soon for that. "I still saw the girl from the market."

"And what do you see now?"

" _You_." 

She looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and this time it was she who kissed him. Jaime immediately opened to her and let her explore his mouth until he had to take a step back to catch his breath. 

"Wait," he said, pressing his forehead against hers. "I want to ask you, do you want to marry me?"

Brienne frowned in confusion. _"We are betrothed."_

It was also something he had thought about during the past few years. It was useful for him to keep the betrothal since he didn't want any woman and Brienne wasn't a woman grown yet, but nobody had asked her what she wanted. He believed she loved him, but she deserved to be asked. "Against our will, by a crazy old man who killed thousands of people. No, I'm asking you if you want to marry me now, so you can say yes or no."

She looked at him as if he was insane, and maybe he was. That was the kind of question asked before kissing the way they had done. She closed the distance between them again. "Yes," she said depositing the answer on his lips. "Yes. What about you, do you want to me marry me?"

Jaime smiled against her mouth. "I want nothing more."

…

"Selwyn is going to kill you," Ned said, though the quirk of his lips belied the seriousness of his tone. 

They were standing in front of the Weirwood tree in the shadow of Seagard's castle, the moon high in the sky and around them the distant noise of all their soldiers spending the night before the battle, laughter and shouts and the distinctive overdone moans and groans of whores and camp girls. 

As soon as Brienne had agreed to marry him Jaime had dragged her by her hand to Ned's tent and demanded that he took them to one of those blasted Weirdwood trees and marry them. Immediately. Well, as soon as he'd been able to stop kissing her, which had taken maybe longer than he had thought. And then he'd had to wait for his cock to go down enough that he could walk, his armour wasn't made with certain activities in mind. 

The moon was already out when they left their tent.

"Selwyn likes me, he won't kill me," Jaime countered, feeling the giddy excitement he had been feeling when kissing Brienne. 

"I wouldn't be so sure," Brienne mumbled next to him. Jaime kept himself from kissing her again with a superhuman effort, her pink and swollen lips begging for it, her face a particularly fetching red that almost matched his armour.

He couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe that just a few days before he had been wondering what was wrong with him and whether he was going to have to break his engagement and hurt someone he loved just because he couldn't love her _the right way_. He couldn't believe that just hours previous he had loved Brienne, but he did not know he could love her like this. He had not known he could look at her and want nothing more than taste every inch of her skin and feel her pressed against him, their limbs entwined together. 

"He might not, but Cat certainly will," Ned continued, and now the amusement in his voice was loud and clear. "She's been decorating a gown for when you finally got out of your own way and set the date."

Brienne looked chagrinned at that, she cut her eyes to Jaime though she didn't meet his. "Maybe we should wait."

"Nonsense, we've waited enough!" He protested, because the same as it had happened the first time he had taken her hand, Jaime just needed to kiss her again. He had had years of not being touched except during fights to make up for then, and now he had years of being next to Brienne and not kissing her, not making love to her to make up for.

Brienne turned to him at that. "It was you who made us wait. I've been ready for moons, longer than that."

Jaime took her hands, out of the corner of his eyes saw Ned step away from them, giving them the illusion of privacy. "I know."

"Maybe we can wait until we're back then."

Jaime thought about it, about having a lavish wedding in King's Landing, surrounded by their friends and family. Brienne would be wearing a blue gown and Jaime a crimson doublet, and he would put his cloak over her shoulders and kiss her in front of the Seven and everyone. He wanted that, but here, just the two of them and this strange and creepy tree with the white face, both of them wearing armour and swords was more them. "We can have both," he said. "But we're marching to war tomorrow and anything can happen." He leaned forward. "We don't have to lay together tonight, there is no bedding ceremony needed, we can just kiss or not even that. But I don't want to wait anymore to call you my wife."

She didn't tell him he was being ridiculous, or remind him again the reason they had been waiting was him. "Alright, we marry tonight."

If Selwyn killed him, it would be worth it.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic is over. It has been quite the trip and I want to thank everyone who has commented and left kudos. You guys make it worth it all the hours writing sn driving myself crazy! Thanks so much.  
> And well, this fic is done, but there are more coming. Watch this space if you like Ghibli as much as JB, we're going to a place of magic next, with Sophie!Brienne and Howl!Jaime.

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic descriptions of violence.  
> Character Deaths.  
> Forced Marriage.  
> Not sure how to warn for this, but kind of self-directed acephobic thoughs.


End file.
